


Shattering the Mirrors

by DrakkHammer



Series: One Heart Beating for Two [3]
Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Britchell, Don't mess with my boyfriend, Fun Sexytimes, M/M, did you hear the one about the vampire and the god walking into a bar..., family reunions suck, love making, love sex and vampires, relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-01-09 08:11:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 82,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrakkHammer/pseuds/DrakkHammer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has come time for parting with Mitchell trying to retain hope and Anders only wanting to forget. Mitchell has George and Annie, but Anders has only his vodka. Anders' mirror has cracked, distorting his image of himself. Terrified that it will shatter, he clings desperately to the facade that he has carefully crafted over his lifetime. As the cracks grow he tries desperately to hold them together. </p><p> <br/>If you aren't starting with Smoke and Mirrors and then reading Blowing Away the Smoke you are missing the first two parts of the trilogy. See End Notes for links.</p><p>The lyrics are from Enya.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cold Is The Cry That Rings, From This Far Distant Shore

Cold as the northern winds  
In December mornings,  
Cold is the cry that rings  
From this far distant shore.

Mitchell sat sprawled on the seat of the train looking out the window at the gray gloom of the landscape. He had Anders' phone in one hand and and the envelope in the other. He couldn't bear to look at either. 

They pulled into a station and a man got on thinking to sit next to Mitchell. He took one look at the intense frown and red-rimmed eyes that glared up at him and quickly changed his mind. 

After the train had been rattling along for at least an hour, he made his hand unclench from the phone and tucked it into his pocket so that he didn't drop it. His knuckles were stiff without the warmth of the glove and he needed to buy another pair. He had the money for them now. He uncreased the envelope and extracted the letter, being careful not to drop the five £20 notes.

Smoothing out the note he read it again, alternately chuckling and sniffling.

_I didn't want you to have to pay to come and be with me. That just didn't seem right, so here's your train fare back. I hope this doesn't feel bad to you, but fuck it if it does because it feels right to me, you egg. I don't want to get sappy or we will both puke. I care for you a lot and I'm fucking going to miss you like hell. Let me get my shit together try to get my shit together and we'll see what happens._  
Miss you already,  
Anders 

The vampire carefully folded the letter, put it back in the envelope and put it into the inner pocket on his jacket. He was so tired he could barely sit upright. Why was sadness so exhausting? He rested his head against the the window, the glass cool against his face. After a time, he slept.

It was 5:30 when Mitchell walked in the door. It was already starting to get dark. He should have enjoyed the onset of winter with its shorter days and weakened sunlight, but he didn't. He just found it depressing. 

Annie came sailing around the corner from the kitchen and hurled herself into his arms. “You're home! I've missed you. George missed you. I've put water on for tea. I didn't know what to make for dinner. George won't be home for another half an hour.”

His gloom vanished under the onslaught of Annie's cheer. If only she wasn't a ghost, he'd have swept her off her feet ages ago. She released him and stepped back.

“You don't look too bad for someone who’s spent the last few days shagging himself silly. You _did_ didn't you?”

“Annie...” he protested with a grin. “There is such a thing as being too nosey. Personal space, you know, we've talked about this.”

She scrunched up her nose and snorted. “I want to know all about him.” She tugged at the hem of her jacket, suddenly looking shy. “I didn't know you were into blokes, but it's okay. I just want to make sure he was good to you.”

That cup of tea was starting to sound like a very good idea. It would give him something to do besides stand there and be grilled.

“Do you suppose the water's ready yet?” He looked toward the kitchen hopefully. Taking the hint, she spun around and bolted for the kitchen, promising him a cuppa in a jiffy.

She was back in half a jiffy, not giving him much time to recover. He took the cup, noting that it it was his favorite with the TARDIS on it. He kissed her on the forehead and told her she was the best, but the grilling was going to have to wait for George because he was only going to tell the story once. Her lower lip shot out but she agreed and left him to his own devices and went back into the kitchen to make mysterious and alarming noises. Annie didn't like being told no.

She was still in the kitchen making noises after the grilling because George had been more interested in the pizza with Lincolnshire sausage and not at all interested in his flatmate's gay romp with a Kiwi businessman/god. Although he did admit that the whole god thing was pretty neat. 

“Apparently being an arsehole comes with the territory though,” Mitchell had said around a mouthful of pizza.

“Except for Anders?”

Mitchell shook his head at Annie. “Nope. He can be an arsehole too.”

“Doesn't that bother you?” 

She wanted to discuss that some more, but George flipped on the telly and both men were immediately immersed. She heaved a sigh. Simple pursuits for simple minds. Meanwhile, she had dishes to do and crockery to break.

Mitchell didn't feel like getting pissed until bedtime. He put off going to bed as long as he could but when he realized that staying up meant that Annie was going to “chat” with him about Anders, he yawned and headed upstairs. His bedroom was just as he left it—a mess with clothes on the floor and the bed unmade. He didn't have to think about it to know what Anders' room never looked like this.

He took the phone out of his pocket and set it on the night stand. Stripping quickly to his briefs he sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the phone. Its owner was somewhere over Europe at 10km. What on earth had made him think that he and a god were compatible? Talk about two beings that didn't even belong in the same universe together. 

Slowly he climbed into bed and pulled the covers up. The twin bed suddenly seemed so large and so very lonely. He tried to find a comfortable position and finally settled on wadding the blanket up so that it felt as if he was pressed against someone. It took him a long time to fall asleep.

 

Mitchell woke slowly and sadly. He didn't want to open his eyes and find himself alone in his messy little bedroom in Bristol. He got up and dressed, tying not to look around. What had seemed homey a few days ago now just seemed old and cluttered. He came downstairs and found that Annie was up and cheerful as usual. “You need a little girl-talk. You know it would help if you would talk about it.

He shook his head. “I don't think so.” He tried to find his sense of humor. “You just want to know what happens between two blokes.”

Seating himself, he gave her his sweetest smile. “How about if we don't talk about it and I just have breakfast?

She smiled back at him and set the box of cereal on the table along with a bowl and a spoon. Pretending to be interested in reading the box, he pour it into the bowl, spooned in a lot of sugar and then dumped milk over it. He ate methodically, not really tasting, just shoveling and swallowing. Trying to keep his mouth too full for conversation. 

Annie sat down across from him. “So that milk is ok?

“What?”

“The milk. It's not spoiled, then?” She smiled that sweet Annie smile that didn't change as his mouth opened in horror, his eyebrows vanishing under his fringe.

“Why the fuck would you give me spoiled milk?” He picked the bowl up and sniffed it, his nose crinkling in disgust. It wasn't that far off but now that she'd mentioned it he couldn't bear to even look at it.

He shoved the bowl at her. “Jaysus Annie, I'm sorry I pissed you off but you don't have to try to poison me!”

She took the bowl and put it in the sink. “I'm sorry. I thought it was still okay to eat. I'm only a ghost and not a very good judge if milk is good or not. Not very good at judging if food is off, actually.” She was entirely too pleased with herself. “And I'm even worse when I'm being shut out of your life.”

“Being a bit passive aggressive this morning, aren't you?” he said as he poured hot water from the kettle into a cup and added a tea bag. 

“Nope,” she said with that adorable little smile. “Not being passive at all.”

The vampire bowed his head in defeat, his hair falling forward to hide his face. “I can't believe you're blackmailing me with food. What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

His head shot up, eyes huge. “Everything?”

She sat down across from him and settled in. “Yup. Everything.”

“I'm so fucked,” Mitchell said, falling forward to bang his head on the table.

 

* * * * * *

 

Anders had had little trouble using Bragi to get a window seat. He wanted to be as alone as he could get. He had also easily borrowed the phone of the older gentleman in the seat next to him, who had suddenly discovered a need to use the restroom before departure. The call to Mitchell was necessarily brief and far more emotionally charged than he was comfortable with. He found himself saying too much and felt his heart twist when he realized that the vampire really had fallen in love with him.

Not that he ever gave much thought to his conquests, but he'd convinced himself that they could be friends with benefits. He'd tried to ignore the vampire’s misty eyes when he left but there was no mistaking the quiver in his voice or the hope in his words. There wasn't much to mistake in Anders’ response to them either. Not the way his stomach had tightened and his own vision had blurred. But he was going to the other side of the fucking planet and there was no place in his world for an undead male lover. 

He'd said his goodbyes as quickly as possible and then disconnected. He held the phone waiting for his seatmate to return. He regretted having left his phone but there was dick all he could do about it now. At some point he would ask for it back. Well, when he felt he could stand to hear the hurt in Mitchell's voice, that is. Screw it. At some point he'd just cancel it, eat the cost and buy another. The vampire would have a new phone and they would be even.

He looked at the sky for a moment and then closed his eyes. This whole affair with Mitchell was insane, from the fact that he was male to the mind boggling idea that he was a vampire. There was nothing good about this whole thing except for the sex. He rubbed the back of his neck. That had been amazing, but it was time to let it go. Mitchell was just another notch on a belt that looked like lace. He had to let it go. Just step back in the closet and lock the door. He could do that. He'd had plenty of practice over the years. 

He shifted in his seat slightly uncomfortable internally. First times were not meant to be followed up by intercontinental flights. He was annoyed at the discomfort. What had felt almost comforting was now bothering him as he mentally distanced himself from Mitchell and the last few days. The distance was physical as well. He looked out for just a moment as London was left behind and then closed his eyes tightly, as if shutting out the view could shut out the confusing welter of feelings. He wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone except the stewardess and was visibly irritated that he had to wait so long for that elixir of forgetfulness called vodka.

He chugged the first glass. He looked at the ice cube. _I'm not gay—I'm NOT._ The thought bubbled to the top and hung there. He needed more alcohol. He needed to forget the last few days. Hell, he needed to forget his life. He Bragied the flight attendant for another drink and then “suggested” to his seat mate that a nap would be an excellent idea. He needed some time alone and more vodka. He was rarely an annoying drunk, especially when he just wanted to be drunk enough to be able to sleep. With luck and enough vodka he’d make it all the way back to Auckland in a semi-coma. 

He'd managed a nap, even though he couldn't really sleep on a plane. He dreamed about standing alone on a rock calling for help that never came. He awoke with a throbbing behind his eyes that was threatening to turn into more than stress. He pinched the bridge of his nose, willing his headache away. Life had become infinitely more complicated. This was why he had always avoided relationships. 

It was insane. _He_ was insane. What the fuck was he thinking of? He wasn't gay. It had been a kink...and with a vampire no less. It doesn't get kinkier than that. He's never realized he was into gay necrophilia. He laughed and his seat companion inched away a little farther. Well, fuck him and the horse he they rode in on. It was first class and he could laugh if he wanted to. 

The flight back to Auckland was going to take forever. His ticket said that it was a shade over 26 hours. A full day and change just to get home. That was just asinine. Why didn't they make faster planes? He was squirming in his seat and noticed that tourist had a really hot stewardess. _I'm not gay._ He got up and eased over his seatmate just as the man was telling him that they were flying over Kazakhstan. He didn't give a shit. He wasn't gay and he and Bragi had a date with that lovely blonde who was serving drinks to the cattle in tourist.

It had been short and sweet. Bragi talked her into the fling, but it was Anders' skill that she enjoyed. He got his end away and if there was something missing from his firm mental declaration of _I'm not gay!_ he ignored it. She was a little flustered but kept smiling at him for the rest of the flight. There were worse things.

Even Bragi couldn't get more vodka out of the stewardess after his seat mate complained about his snoring. Well, he never said he wasn't a loud drunk. He was unfortunately sober when he landed and it didn't help his mood that he had to wrangle with customs for hours and uncharacteristically had lost. He'd had to give up and go home. 

He'd been exhausted when he got home. He poured himself a large glass of vodka, drank it like tap water, hit the john and then staggered into the bedroom. He was pissed off enough that he hadn't even felt bad about kicking Dawn out of bed. Later he regretted evicting his secretary so unceremoniously. The bed was far too large and too cold without a tall skinny Irishman in it. Not that chilly Mitchell warmed the bed very much on his own, but certain things that he did warmed it up nicely indeed. Anders turned, stuffing the pillow under his head, willing himself to go to sleep and trying to conjure memories of the flight attendant. Between the vodka and exhaustion he drifted off and dreamed of wandering alone and lost in Asgard. 

Going into work had been strange enough with Dawn telling him that his mother hadn't been by in several days and that she didn't know what the hell to do with some of the contacts Agnetha had made while she was taking over. He'd made phone calls, tried to Bragi them, failed miserable and then had to hop in his car and actually go over to the office and straighten things out the old fashioned way. Fortunately for Anders he actually was a decent PR man and he calmed the waters, got the contract signed and took it back to Dawn along with a bouquet of flowers. 

Dawn looked at the pretty arrangement of daisies, tiny pink roses and baby's breath and said, “If these weren't so pretty I'd shove them up your ass.”

He looked into her honest grey eyes and smiled a little. “And you'd be within your rights. I should have called before I came home. I don't know why I'm always such a dick.”

Surprised, she responded, “I don't either.”

“But you love me anyway.” The smile was wider—full of the Anders charm.

“Don't push your luck. There are two more contracts on your desk to look over. I didn't like that woman, she was rude to me and I think she insulted clients. We had another cancellation.” She set the bouquet on her desk and adjusted it. “Hopefully you can keep us from going under.”

“Are we?” he asked, distracted by the unfamiliar contract.

She turned and looked at him, surprised that he could sometimes be as dense as the stone on the wall. “Yes, we are. Well we're closer than I'm comfortable with being. Not to put too fine a point on it, but you need to stop playing the hotshot and actually be one for awhile.” She slid into her seat and flipped open her laptop. “Bills are coming due and there isn't money to pay them, so unless you have some money that I don't know about, we are doing to be in serious trouble by next month.”

He'd pulled out his mother's credit card and handed it to Dawn. “Pay them.” He waved away her objection at paying with someone else's card. “I'll handle it.”

He was going to handle it too...right up until he talked with Mike and found out that while he'd been snogging with Mitchell his mother had murdered Eva and in turn had been murdered by Colin, if setting a forest on fire and destroying the tree she was inhabiting could be called murder. His family had gone from being dysfunctional to being criminals. 

He'd sat there after the phone call speechless for once in his life. He'd known that Ty had made a terrible mistake marrying Eva who was Hel the daughter of Loki. But he hadn't been around to see how insane it had gotten. Colin was probably normally nuts but with Loki added he was a full blown sociopath. Anders was surprised that he hadn't simply blown Agnetha up with a fireball. That was more his style than a sneaky forest fire. One sociopath killing another. He wasn't even sure that was a crime.

Dawn came in later and informed him that the bills had been paid.. The credit card hadn't been cancelled yet, buying him a little more time and probably a chewing out from Mike. He'd rather look forward to that actually. Just maybe Agnetha had done the right thing for once and set up a nice inheritance for her children. Maybe she'd give them in death what she never gave them in life. 

He was musing about the possibilities of inheriting money when his phone rang. It was Mike again and he was calling a meeting for this afternoon. Oh, freaking...joy.

Lunch was as liquid as he could make it. He was going to have to attend a family meeting in two hours and he needed all the fortification he could get. He took another pull on his vodka. How in the hell do you handle this kind of shit? He looked at the glass, the vodka shimmering around the chunks of ice held no answers. There wasn't enough alcohol in the world to make him forget that he was related to monsters. How had he ever been insane enough to even begin to think that he could drag Mitchell into the middle of this mess? 

Why would he drag Mitchell into anything? _He wasn't gay._ He watched the pretty bartender as she mixed a drink. He could feel a stirring between his legs. _Nope. Not gay._

He looked out of the window at the clear spring sky of Auckland and sipped. He was tired, that's all. He never got lonely and he never wanted for company. That company was always on his terms and that's the way he liked it. He looked around at the people at the other tables. They were all sitting with someone, talking and laughing. Silly, stupid mortals

He finished the vodka and beckoned the waitress for another. She didn't want to serve him but he talked her into it...by telling her the truth...that his mother had died. Bragi had deserted him, but he was finding that the truth was sometimes just as good. The waitress brought him a full tumbler this time instead of half. She patted him on the shoulder and he actually felt a little better knowing that a stranger would care, even if they didn't really understand why he was in pain.

 

* * * * * * 

 

Mitchell finished swabbing up the blood in the ER cubicle. It should have made him hungry, but it only made him feel sick. He knew he was due for a feed soon and didn't want to think about it. For the last decade he'd been on-again off-again about being a vampire. Some parts were undeniably good, some horrifyingly bad. The trouble was that he had no choice in the matter—never did—never would.

With Herrick dead he was finally free of the leash around his neck. Killing your sire was almost unheard of it and it had made him even more of a legend. He didn't give a shit. He didn't want to be anything but a normal man. He never wanted to be “The John Mitchell” who walked through humanity like a scythe. That was Herrick's influence. Your sire was supposed to teach you how to survive in the life—the tricks of the trade as it were. Only Herrick was a sociopath who had no tricks. He'd killed his own sire centuries ago and had no checks on his behavior; not until Mitchell finally became old enough to get beyond the blood lust and start to reason. 

This descent into reason was why so many never sired and those that did so often killed their children. The Old Ones had no love of being challenged by their offspring. The ones who didn't take their training seriously were disposed of. Herrick was insane enough to intimidate even the Old Ones. They left it to the humans to dispose of him. That his own offspring had seen to it was all the better. It was neat and there was no publicity. They were aware that Bristol was infested with young untutored vampires and it was only a matter of time before that was seen to. When you are millennia old you never rush, there is no point in it when you have all the time in the world.

He was getting his jacket out of his locker when George came up. “Fancy a drink with Nina and me tonight?”

The Irishman made a face. “You don't want me hanging around. Enjoy your date.”

George went all George and shuffled his foot. “I do want you around, so does Nina. I'd enjoy it more if I didn't know my best mate was sitting at home looking like someone pissed in his tea.” 

“Now, that is a thoroughly disgusting thought, you egg.” Mitchell said with a grin.

“What's an “igg?” He was confused, wondering if he'd just been called something nasty. 

The frown was dark and hard. “Sorry. It's something Anders says.” 

“Has he called you?” George already knew the answer. He didn’t know what to say when Mitchell shook his head. “I'm sure he will.”

“I'm sure he won't.” The vampire forced a long breath. “He owns his own business and I'm just a cleaner.” He looked at George, and then dropped his head. “He also doesn't have to think about breathing. It's daft to think it would be more than it was.”

George looked sympathetic something he was very good at. “Then you definitely need to come along tonight. We can't let you get pissed alone. We will help you hold a wake.”

Mitchell's smile was crooked and it almost reached his eyes. “You're a good mate, you know that, George?”

The taller man felt his ears turn pink.

Mitchell punched him in the shoulder. “Not too shabby for someone who pisses on trees...”

He exited the hospital with George hot on his heels.

Annie was still clanking the china around but agreed that Mitchell definitely needed to go out. She thought about coming along, but decided to stay home. Watching her flatmate “celebrate” the end of what had been a hopeful relationship would just depress her. Truth be told, the fact that he'd had a relationship with a man depressed her, but she was determined to be modern about it. She put a cup down hard enough for the handle to come off in her hand. Definitely determined to be modern about it...later.

Nina had been sympathetic. She was completely pronoun confused for a while until she figured out that Mitchell swung both ways. The revelation didn't phase her but the thought that her friend would get dumped because he wasn't classy enough did.

“The fuck, Mitchell...”She held her glass high, if somewhat unsteadily. “You're as good as anyone else and a damn sight better looking.”

The vampire took a swallow of beer and shook his head. “As if that has ever gotten me anything except trouble.”

“I don't know what I expected.” he ducked his head and twirled his bottle around in the condensation ring. “It felt like more than a one night stand, you know...me being his first and all.”

Nina threw an arm around his shoulders. “Yeah, I know. You'd think that being first would mean more, but take it from a woman. It's not what it's cracked up to be. Men are all the same.”

Mitchell smiled, his eyes twinkling and lifted his glass. “Yeah Nina. Blokes are all assholes. Every one. Never trust 'em. They steal your heart and then leave.”

George straightened and protested. “Hey, watch who you're talking about!” 

Nina and Mitchell turned as one and threw their arms around him in a hug. “Except you, George.” Nina said, “You're the one bloke we can count on.”

George's glasses had been knocked crooked and he was a little sniffly, but he hugged them back as hard as he could. They sat there smashed together at the little table at the back of the pub and just held on as if their lives depended on it. It was good to have friends.

 

* * * * * * 

The meeting, such as it was, went from bad to worse. As usual when it came to Mike, Anders' mouth outstripped his common sense. He said things he shouldn't have and paid for it with a right hook. That hurt like bloody hell, but he wasn't stupid enough to fight back. Karate belt or not he had no idea if he could take Mikkel. If he seriously fought his brother would it be Ullr who faced him and was fighting a game he couldn’t lose? It wasn't worth finding out. He picked up what was left of his dignity and left the bar.

So mommy dearest had left a will that embraced the goddesses and to hell with her own children. First she'd neglected them, then abandoned them and when she had the opportunity she tried to murder her youngest and ultimately screwed them all out of their inheritance. So the bitches would have to find a plan to use the money and whatever was left the boys could split. He literally risked his life going to Norway. Had his head thoroughly messed with in England and now was stuck with a company solidly in the red. Not to mention a brother he'd have to practically blow before he'd see a dollar of that money.

Anders got in his car and slammed his hand down on the steering wheel. Bloody balls this sucked! His first thought was that he needed alcohol, but his second was that he be buggered if he'd let them turn him into an alcoholic. His third was that he really really needed a drink. 

He peeled out of the parking spot so fast he was nearly sideswiped. He didn't care. Caring was for suckers. Every single time he tried it he got his balls nailed to the wall. He stared straight ahead not wanting to admit that he'd hoped that just maybe if he brought the branch back he would be in his mother's good graces. Just maybe...

When he got home he fed his fish and watched them for awhile. They weren't as stupid as people said. They knew him. Others could come near the tank and they would swim up and then leave, but for Anders they would hang out even if they weren't fed. He wiggled his finger and the big red-gold one came up. He remembered his first fish. He'd won it at the carnival that Mike had taken him to. His father wanted to flush it down the toilet but for once Agnetha, who had been Elizabet back then, had stood up for him and he'd had Goldie for nearly five years. 

Anders stood up and went to get them some food. He bought them the good stuff from the aquarium store. It might be sad that his goldfish were the only constant he had, but he felt some pride in knowing that he took good care of them. 

His jaw hurt. He thought about taking a pain killer then shrugged. He walked over to the cabinet and pulled out the vodka. Fuck it...he might as well get pissed. It's not like there was anyone to care.

Dawn opened the office and busied herself with paperwork, but that eventually ran out. There were no phone calls to return. Anders hadn't even bothered to call in. There were no clients to field. Hell, there were no clients. At this rate she wasn't going to have a job for much longer. She thought about checking out the want ads but found she couldn't make herself do it. As obnoxious as Anders was she liked him. Better yet, she liked the almost complete autonomy she had as his secretary. That would be hard to find again. 

When Anders didn't come into work by ten Dawn called. It rang for a long time and a strange voice answered. “Anders?”

Frowning she said, “No this is Dawn. Let me speak to Anders.”

There was a long pause. “Anders isn't here.” The accent sounded slightly Irish.

Dawn bit her lip. Anders' lack of attention to his business was driving him toward bankruptcy. This was a first though. He usually called if he wasn't coming in and had never had anyone lie for him before.”

“Tell him to call me when he gets there,” she said sharply.

“I...I can't do that.” Was the reply.

“And why,” she demanded, “can't you?”

“Because...because he's not here.”

“I _know_ he's not there. You just told me that. When he does get there, have him call me.”

“I can't. I mean...oh jaysus...I don't know where he is...I mean I don't know how to reach him. Is he all right? I mean, is everything okay with him?”

“I don't know,” snapped Dawn. “You're the one with his phone.” 

She hung up and dialed the landline. Anders answered the phone sounding muzzy and...well...drunk.

“Anders, where in the hell are you? There is a client coming to meet with you in half an hour.”

“Who is this?” He tried to sit up but only succeeded in nearly rolling off of the bed. He sat on the floor staring at the clock on the wall trying to make it come into focus. 

“It's Dawn, you bloody idiot!” Boss or no boss she was going to have his head on a pike. If this kept up she was going to be on the street looking for a new job by this time next week. “You have an appointment with Stevens Trucking, you remember the guy you've been chasing all week?”

The clock finally came into focus and he groaned.

“Anders are you drunk?” She could feel herself starting panic. Scrabbling around she pulled out the folder with all of the information on the trucking company. She was going to have to be a very fast study if she didn't want to lose this account.

I'm sorry, Dawnsie.” His whisper was so loud that it felt as if he was yelling. 

“You certainly are!” She hung up the phone and started reading.

It was past noon by the time that Anders finally made it into the office. Dawn was typing so aggressively that it was a wonder that the laptop had any keys left. She looked up and frowned. He was hungover in a way she'd never seen before. Anders always had a smart remark for everything, but not today. He looked at her sadly with red-rimmed eyes and only the corner of his mouth quirked up. Even his dimples were subdued.

“How'd it go?” he asked quietly.

“About as well as you'd think. He didn't want a woman talking to him. Fucking misogynist! I made excuses for you, but he really wasn't interested.” She dropped the file into the trash—loudly. 

He heaved a sigh and went on into his office. He flipped open his laptop and sat there staring at the blank screen wishing he had a drink. He had to get Yggdrasil out of customs before they gassed the magic out of it. That is if it had any magic. He certainly hadn't felt anything from him. Odd that Mitchell had...

Mitchell... He tried to shove the image of huge dark eyes and soft curls out of his mind. It was just a kink. A momentary weakness. He had to call him and get him to send the phone back before Dawn found out about it. He put his head in his hands. He couldn't think. Mitchell with his lazy smile and his easy laugh. With that sexy brogue and the way his lips curved up when he smiled without showing his teeth. That sweet sweet little mischievous smile. Anders nearly pounded his head on his desk. He needed that image out of his mind.


	2. Winter has come too late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitchell is trying to make the best of their relationship not working out. Anders doesn't have anything left to make the best of. When you have nothing left where do you go?
> 
> The lyrics are from "Exile" by Enya

Winter has come too late  
Too close beside me.  
How can I chase away  
All these fears deep inside?

Work was distracting which was just what Mitchell needed. He was going to be in ER the whole week. Usually he didn't like it much, because it required the most work, being meticulous and involved being around fresh blood, but now he welcomed the distraction from his thoughts.

Every time his mind wandered, it wandered right over to Anders. He saw the golden god hot and hard in the shower, making faces about mushy peas, curled up asleep in his arms and laying under him, head thrown back in pleasure. At this point he would have done anything to get the thousands of images out of his brain. They were worse than the withdrawal flashbacks. At least he wanted to get away from those. These he wanted to get _back_ to. 

Mitchell knew he was making George and Annie crazy. He was doing his best not to mope around. Like most people in love, he had a terrible need to talk about it, but he couldn't. Not that they wouldn't have listened, but that he was in too much pain to bring it up. Anders had called before he had even left the ground and then never again. No texts, nothing. Mitchell had an email that he checked at the library, but nothing there either. Just nothing.

And then this woman called out of nowhere looking for him. Was she his wife? He'd said he wasn't married, but people lie all the time...he should know. He got back home and is now with his family and is trying to forget. The phone was just a stupid impulse that he's regretting and will have to try to explain. Mitchell's face darkened. If she called again she'd get an earful. Even as he thought it he knew he couldn't go through with it. If Anders was a gay man caught in the age old struggle to “be normal,” he couldn't betray him. He could never betray him. The vampire's fingers bit into the handle of the mop and he heard it snap. Sadly, he picked it up and went to get a new one. 

He picked at supper and Annie fussed over him. “Mac 'n cheese is your favorite and you haven't even touched your mushy peas.”

He looked at the heap of peas and memories flooded back. Anders making faces at the idea of eating them. Anders trying a taste. Anders grimacing as Mitchell stuck out his tongue coated with peas. He could feel the lump forming, closing his throat. He started to tell her that it wasn't a problem with the food, but he felt his eyes fill with tears and bolted from the table. George watched him go and grabbed Annie before she could follow him.

“Give him some privacy, Annie. He's in a bad way just now and following him around isn't going to help it any.”

She sat down across from him and shoved Mitchell's dinner to one side. “I'm worried about him.”

“Annie, he's a century old, he's had relationships that didn't work out before. In fact, most of them haven't worked out before, so he's had practice.” George shoved some more mac 'n cheese in and chewed appreciatively. He gestured at Mitchell's plate. “I'll take that if he's not going to eat it.”

Annie made a face at him. “I'm going to put it in the fridge for him so he can have it later. Don't be such a pig.”

George looked hurt. “I'm not. I'm just hungry.”

Heaving a sigh she got up and fixed him a cheese sandwich. “Here. Now leave Mitchell's food alone.”

“Thanks,” he said around a mouthful of sandwich. “It's harder being a bloke and getting dumped.”

“Have you gone mental?” Annie asked, her eyes wide with surprise. “Since when is it harder on a bloke?”

He shrugged. “Since like always. We can't go and talk about our feelings like you can. We bottle them all up inside and it eats at you. It really does, Annie.”

She got up and came around to stand by his side. “It eats at you, George, because you're one of the good ones.” She stroked his hair gently. “So is Mitchell.”

Mitchell didn't come back down and at bedtime Annie heated his dinner up and took it to his room. She knocked lightly. When he didn't answer she peeked in and found him lying in bed looking at the ceiling. “Can I come in?”

“Sure, Annie. I'm sorry about dinner.” His voice was very soft, barely audible.

“It's okay, I brought it up.” She sat on the edge of the bed, speared some of the pasta with the fork and brought it to his mouth. 

He took the fork from her and ate the macaroni. Amused, he sat up. “Jaysus, you don't have to feed me. I'm not a babe. You're such a mother hen.”

She smiled and smoothed his tangled hair back. “Sometimes men need mothering. I can't help what happened, but I want you to know that I'm here for you.”

The tears started and she put the bowl down, gathering him into her arms. He buried his face in her hair and let himself cry. 

When the storm of tears passed she continued to hold him. He hiccuped and pulled away to blow his nose. He hated to cry. He always looked awful with red eyes and running nose. It wouldn’t be so bad if he didn't cry so fucking easily. He always felt like an idiot for crying. He and George could turn on the waterworks though. Sometimes he wondered if it was being supernatural that did it. Whatever it was, he wished it would fucking stop.

“What's wrong, Mitchell?” She was looking at him with those huge Annie eyes. She could see right through him every time.

“I think he's married. A woman called and demanded to know why I had his phone.”

“That rat bastard. If I could pop all the way to New Zealand I'd give him a piece of my mind.” She was outraged for him to a level that very nearly made him giggle. 

“I should have known better. It's my own fault. I never learn.” He gave her a sad sweet little smile. “I always go charging right back in without looking both ways.”

“And you get sideswiped.” She patted his knee. 

He sniffled and nodded. “I hoped this time might be different. You know, with a bloke and all.”

She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. “Take it from me, Mitchell. Men are arseholes.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, we are, aren't we?”

She smoothed his hair and arranged the dinner she'd brought up on his nightstand. “It will be all right, Mitchell. Try to eat a little something and get some sleep. I will see you tomorrow.”

He watched her go and then looked at the food. He knew he couldn't eat, but the tea was still warm. He picked up the cup and looking into its amber depths as if it could magically become a scrying glass and give him the answers he was looking for.

Annie popped in a few hours later and found him sprawled across the bed, bedside lamp still on and covers on the floor. She picked them up and gently tucked him in. She turned off the lamp and popped back out hoping he'd sleep well.

Mitchell woke just before dawn and couldn't get to get back to sleep. He laid there thinking about the time he'd had with Anders. He searched for things that the Kiwi had said that would negate the promise of contact. Why had he left his phone if he didn't intend to call? Was he married? If he was married why would he leave the phone? It all went round and round not making any sense. 

He finally gave it up as a bad job and went downstairs to make tea. Annie was in a bit of a snit about Anders' marital situation and he decided he'd wait for breakfast until George woke up.

It was George's day off and he'd slept late. When he came down he found Mitchell sprawled on the couch not watching a game show with Annie in the kitchen making tea. A lot of tea. She'd made six cups and was ready to pour another when he snatched the tea bag out of the cup.

“What are you doing?” he yelped as he grabbed the box of tea bags and stuffed the rescued one back inside. “Have you had a tea breakdown this morning?”

She looked at him big eyes wide and said, “It's awful.”

Confused, George looked around. “What's awful?”

Mitchell appeared in the doorway looking downcast. “I dunno, she just keeps saying that. She made me tell her about Anders and me.”

Even more confused, George looked at him and asked, “What in the bloody hell are you talking about?”

“Gay sex, George. She wanted to know about it and I told her. Now she's upset.” He looked like a five-year-old who had done something unforgivable. 

Annie put the tea pot back down on the stove and looked at them both. “Mitchell, you're talking rubbish.”

She turned to George with a tragic air. “He loves this guy and he hasn't called. Some woman called and the bastard is probably married. That's why I'm upset. He's hurt our Mitchell and I want to punch him!”

Incredibly relieved that he hadn't grossed her out, Mitchell came over and put his arms around her. “It'll be okay, Annie. Really. I thought I'd upset you by telling you what we did.”

Her eyes started to twinkle. “I already knew about all that.”

“Then why did you make me say it?” He was blushing and looked crushed.

She looked a little embarrassed. “Because two blokes going at it is hot.” She slid her arms around him. “What upsets me is that he's hurt you.”

He looked pained. “You made me say all that because you thought it was hot?” 

She blinked at him and gave him her sweetest smile. 

He launched himself at her. “I'm going to kill you!”

She vanished to reappear in the living room giggling so hard she could hardly talk. “I'm sorry Mitchell, but you look so cute when you're embarrassed.

“George, I'm gonna kill her!”

“Too late,” he said, poking the tea trying to find the warmest cup. “And too slow.”

Annie peeked back around the corner and found Mitchell laughing. He was still blushing as much as a vampire can, but he held out his arms to her. She came over and he scooped her up and hugged her. “You are the best thing ever. You're certifiably crazy, but you make me laugh. You're the best.” 

George was leaning against the counter sipping his cup of tea. “When you two idiots are done with girl talk, can a bloke get some breakfast?”

 

* * * * * *

 

Ty had made the mistake of going over to Anders. He never understood why he didn't avoid his brother like Mike and Axl did. He hated to admit that he loved him, even when he was being a prick. He was still the big brother who had protected him and sometimes still did. Sometimes he even got a glimpse of that other Anders, the one no one ever got to see. The one that actually cared about things.

After harassing Ty with Yggdrasil Anders bid him goodbye. He hadn't provided enough entertainment, although he had to admit that prodding his little brother in the family jewels with the stick had been pretyy funny. He had tried to talk Ty into going out with him. He didn't want to be alone, but his idiot brother was still running after Dawn. She was nice enough. Really too nice for the Johnsons, but he couldn't convince his younger brother to give it a miss. He was intent on winning her back and would probably not be worth a shit until he did. 

He bounced around his condo for an hour and then grabbed his keys and went in search of alcohol and entertainment. 

The blond he chose had been watching him for the last half hour. She was a shade taller than he was with a trophy rack that may or may not be real. He hated fake tits, but it wasn't her chest that he was interested in. He hadn't even had to use Bragi. She'd gushed something about loving men with dimples and practically ate him alive on the dance floor. When they went to the parking lot she pinned him up against the car and kissed him hard. He should have responded, but instead he felt nothing. She slid her hand up his inner thigh and found him completely soft. 

“What are ya, queer?” Her voice cut into him and he felt himself cringing away from her. 

He almost slapped her, but caught himself and instead, got into his car and drove away leaving her to hurl invective at him as he skidded out into traffic. He got home and went straight to the kitchen for comfort of his bottle. The clear liquid stung his throat but it brought peace and forgetfulness. He finished off the bottle of vodka and fell asleep with his clothes on. 

He came in late the next morning and Dawn was waiting for him with a frown on her face. She started in about the work he had to do but he just grinned at her. 

“Anders, are you drunk?” She put her hands on her hips looking like a sitcom mom. He found it hysterical and started to giggle.

“Dawn, you're a trip. I'm gonna get you an apron with a ruffle around it. I'm gonna make it your new uniform.”

“You're drunk.” She heaved a sigh. “Well at least you don't have to talk to anyone until this afternoon. Do you want some coffee?”

“Sure, Dawnsie,” he dimpled at her. “Then I will be a wide awake drunk. That's an old wipe's tale.”

“You mean 'wives' tale,” she replied.

“Sure. Whatever.” He went in to sit as his desk. He looked around. “I'm bored already. I'm going home. Call me if you need me.”

“Asshole,” she said under her breath.

“I heard that...”

 

Dawn sat there looking at the stack of bills, one of which was for the new iPhone Anders had to have before he left for Norway. Had to have it and now didn't have it. But who did? She dialed the number and waited impatiently.

Anders' phone woke Mitchell for the second time. When he picked it up he saw that it was 3:30am. Why would the Anders call him in the middle of the night? He answered, his voice heavy with sleep.  
“H'lo,” he mumbled.

“Who _is_ this?” He recognized Dawn's voice. “Why do you have Anders' phone?”

Mitchell was too groggy to lie. “He gave it to me.”

There was dead silence on the line. Then Dawn spoke again, her voice cutting like a whip. “If you don't return it this minute I'm going to report it stolen!”

“But I didn't steal it,” Mitchell protested. The last thing he needed was trouble with the law. “He gave it to me.”

That pointed silence again. “Why would he give you his new phone?” Anders wasn't the gift giving type, there had to be something very wrong here.

“He...uh...he was going to call me. I guess. I guess he was going to call me. But he hasn't, so I will send the phone back. Can you text me the address to mail it to?” Thoroughly awake now, Mitchell was aware that he was stammering and sounding like an idiot. He sure wasn't Mr. Cool at three in the morning.

“Excuse me, but who are you and where are you?” Dawn was getting curious now.

“I'm John Mitchell. Just Mitchell, really and I'm in Bristol.” He sat there holding the phone as if it was going to bite him.

“Bristol? England? Bristol, England?”

“Yes,” he said softly. He laid back down, the glow of the light illuminating his face. This was the last thing on earth that he expected and he wasn't sure how to handle it.

Dawn was excellent at reading people. She realized that she'd called in the middle of the night and that a young man on the other end was confused about the call. That made two of them. “Why did he give you the phone, Mitchell? Why did he want to call you?”

“He...uh...we're friends. That is, we got to be friends. I'm sorry, I shouldn't be talking to you. I'll just send the phone back. Okay?”

Dawn relented a little. “I'm Anders' secretary, but I'm his friend too, as much as he'll let me be. Is everything all right?”

“Not really, but I'll just send the phone back,” Mitchell replied.

“If he needs to call you, then you should keep it.”

“I don't think he's going to call me.” Mitchell's voice dropped until she could barely hear it. “This was all a mistake. Text me the address and I will mail it in the morning. Sorry to have bothered you.”

He hung up and sat there feeling miserable the phone still in his hand. He set it carefully on the nightstand and then fell back on the bed, tears stinging in his eyes. He willed them away, but it didn't work. Pulling the pillow over his head to muffle his sounds, he cried himself to sleep.

Dawn thought about the phone call the rest of the day. She didn't text the return address, but couldn't say why not. She told herself that she was too busy to do it and would get to it tomorrow. She and Ty were going out to dinner and she didn't have time to be worried about a phone.

By one thirty Anders felt at least human and went with Stacy to get his stick. The dyke in the office couldn't be swayed, but no one seemed to give a crap if they just climbed the fence (or, in his case, fell over it.) Then he didn't know what to do with the damned thing. He presumed that his beloved mother had known what it was for. He'd let his business waste away fetching this stupid stick like the good doggie he was and for what? The useless stick of uselessness.

When they got back Grandpa was looking awful and Anders suggested he go lie down. Olaf was aging before his eyes and he was really not happy that he'd invited him to have a nap. He sat in the living with his head in his hands. His attempt to use Bragi hadn't worked. He didn't know what the hell was going on. Grandpa was looking increasingly like shit. He'd looked old for some reason when he had tried to get him to help get Yggdrasil out of hock. Now he looked ancient. He was lying in Anders bed being all old and wrinkled, but hopefully not incontinent. He couldn't afford a new mattress.

This was all supposed to be the result of Axl getting sick. He was in hospital now hopefully to be soon cured by Yggdrasil that Stacy was so athletically peddling to him. Anders had passed on going to the hospital. Sick people squicked him out. He and Grandpa would ride it out here. He took another swallow of vodka. One thing, when things got weird he could always count on vodka to make things smoother. 

By nightfall, Stacy was cuddling with grandpa in his bed, but he was too drunk to care. He curled up on the couch, cradling the vodka bottle like a teddy bear, dead to the world. While Anders was passed out Michelle healed Axl with Yggdrasil and their powers slipped back where they belonged. Bragi's power slipped back unnoticed. Ty got colder and sadder, grandpa got younger and hornier—Anders was not going to be amused by the stains on his sheets. Anders, too drunk to care, slept on.

He was hungover like a bitch when he woke. He staggered to the kitchen and drank a large glass of water and then went to his bedroom to evict the tenants. They didn't appreciate it and simply ignored him, even when he stood right next to them pointing at the door. 

“Fuck off!” Grandpa snapped, hauling Stacy back down for another kiss.

Irritated, Anders turned and started for the door. “I don't get any respect,” he muttered.

“That's because you don't deserve any!” Stacy called after him.

He grimaced. Dissed by a handmaiden. When he was Bragi he was going to have her wash every dish in Asgard. 

The day continued to go downhill. As he pointed out to Dawn he couldn't talk to clients who wouldn't take his call and didn't call back. He made some more calls, schmoozed some more secretaries and assistants and then made the mistake of picking up his phone. 

“We're having a _thing,_ ” Mike said. “ _Be at the bar in an hour._ ”

“I don't feel like coming down there to hang around with you losers,” he sniped. “The last time I came over you slugged me.”

Mike shorted. “Yeah well you fucking deserved it. If you didn't act like such a self-righteous prick maybe you wouldn't piss me off so bad.”

“Yeah, thanks, I'll remember that, Mikkel. Come down and listen to you talk shit and then hit me like you used to do when we were kids.” He hung up the phone.

Mike called him back. “Axl damned near died and this is sort of a celebration. So just show up and keep it buttoned for once. Do you think you can do that?”

Relenting, Anders agreed. “Okay. For Axl, I'll be there.”

And...he wished he hadn't gone. While it was great to see his kid brother up and joking after having knocked on death's door. It wasn't so great to find out what the side effects of his illness had been. It wasn't so great at all. 

So when Axle got sick they had all lost their powers. That included big brother Mike, the family investment counselor. Mikkel had lost his ability to play and win over stocks and bonds and he was apparently too stupid to know when to quit playing. His pig pigheadedness had cost them nearly all the money Agnetha had left. There was enough left to fund one goddess' business venture. The only one who actually had a workable idea was obnoxious little Stacy. So the money that should have been Anders was going to go to the rude handmaiden to finance her fucking idiotic delivery service venture. It should have been his. He was the one who risked his life to get that stupid stick. Without Yggdrasil Axl might have died and then the world would have ended. But did he get any credit?

Anders looked at Mike being all “let's make the best of this” and his simmer rose to a boil. He stalked over to his babbling brother and decked him. He'd forgotten how much a right hook hurts and left the bar shaking his hand, hoping he hadn't broken his knuckles on that asshole's jaw.

The bar was dark and the vodka friendly. He was ruined. He had two clients left. One sold dog food and the other cereal even the dogs wouldn't have eaten. Bragi would have to work overtime, but with the bills from the trip and the normal overhead he couldn't build it back fast enough. How had his life ended up going to hell like it was on a greased slide?

When the bartender cut him off, he went home. He knew he should eat something, but why bother? He didn't want anything to get in the way of the alcohol. He was almost desperate for the numbness, the oblivion that it brings. He looked at the bottle. It was his only friend in the world. It didn't care if he was rich or poor...or who he wanted to sleep with. It was always there for him. He hugged it to his chest with one arm and turned on the telly.

A few minutes later he turned it off. There was nothing to watch. He got up and wended his way to his laptop, taking a slight detour as he lost his balance and almost ended up in the kitchen. He flipped open his laptop and checked his email. Then went to a porn site. The women were blond and beautiful the way he liked them. Oh yes. Big boobs and firm sleek flesh. Smooth. Silky smooth. Not a hair in sight...now where had that thought come from?

He chose two blonds because two is better than one and nothing is better than watching them do each other. Right? 

Three quarters of the bottle later he couldn't see the blonds anymore. He couldn't think either. He couldn't think about how they didn't really turn him on. He couldn't think about how much better looking they would be if they were brunette...or male...

 _He wasn't gay._

He looked at the bottle of vodka, heaved himself to his feet and went to the kitchen to grab a new bottle. He settled down on the couch with both bottles and flipped on the TV. He found a “Die Hard” movie. It didn't matter which one. They were all the same. The vodka went down smooth. He looked at the bottle sadly. Mum owned the company that made Fenrir. Did that mean that every time he drank he was toasting her? Naw...fuck that. 

After awhile it didn't matter where the vodka came from, or what was on the telly. It didn't matter when the movie ended and another one started. Nothing mattered.

_Because he wasn't gay._

Anders took another drink. Maybe he was, but who gave a fuck? Nothing mattered because he was bankrupt. Soon there would be bill collectors and lawyers and losing Dawn. Everything he'd built was crumbling. He was standing alone in the dark again. Mike, as usual, was okay and absent. And he was left to try to understand what was happening. He'd done as he was told with the promise of a reward and it had all turned to shit. Worse than shit. 

He finished the bottle and opened the new one he's brought with him. _Here's to you, mommy dearest. You've finally destroyed me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you aren't starting with Part 1 "Smoke and Mirrors" you are missing part of the Two Hearts Beating as One trilogy and not reading all of the story.
> 
> Part 1: [**Smoke and Mirrors**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1034616)
> 
> Part 2: [**Blowing Away the Smoke**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1054179)


	3. The Signs to Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When it can't get any worse--it has to get better. 
> 
>  
> 
> If you aren't starting with [**Smoke and Mirrors**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1034616%E2%80%9C>Smoke%20and%20Mirrors</a>%20you%20are%20missing%20the%20first%20part%20of%20this%20story.%0A%0APart%202.%20<a%20href=) you are missing the first part of this trilogy.
> 
> Part 2. [**Blowing Away the Smoke**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1054179)
> 
> Series this work belongs to:  
> Part 3 of the [**One Heart Beating for Two**](http://archiveofourown.org/series/61464) series

I'll wait the signs to come.  
I'll find a way.  
I will wait the time to come.  
I'll find a way home.

Dawn opened the office as usual, but Anders didn't show up again. Nor did he answer his land line. She'd just hung up after the fifth call when Ty came in with a cup of raspberry tea and a matching scone.

“Have you heard from Anders?” She pulled the top off of the tea and inhaled the heady aroma. Ty was so sweet. She really did have to stop thinking of him as a murderer. She was pretty sure none of them brought their intended victims tea and scones first thing in the morning.

Ty looked around as if expecting to see his brother. “Isn't he here? He gets bored at home.”

Dawn shrugged. “He gets bored here too, but this is the second day he hasn't shown up on time. Yesterday he was drunk when I called and lost an account...an account we couldn't afford to lose.”

“Want me to check on him?” Ty asked, very much not wanting to have to volunteer. 

“If you wouldn't mind. I'd feel better. Something's wrong, but I don't know what it is.”

“He's a dick, that's what's wrong.” Ty replied sagely.

She laughed. “Yes, but he's normally a dick. Lately he's been too quiet.”

“Dickless?” 

Ty's smile was bright and Dawn couldn't help laughing. “That's one way to put it. But the question is what neutered him?”

“Me, if given half a chance, but I'd have to get in line behind half of Auckland.” He grinned again, but nodded. “Okay, I'm going. I'll give you a call if there's a problem.”

A half an hour later there was a call. 

It was Ty. 

“There's a problem.”

Dawn heaved a sigh. “What now? Is he drunk?”

There was a long pause. “He's way past drunk. He's practically comatose. He was passed out in a pool of his own vomit.” Ty's voice sounded far away and scared. “I called Michele and she is sending an ambulance.”

“I'll be right there.” Dawn snapped off her computer and stood up.

“There won't be time, they will be here any minute. Meet me at the hospital. 

Dawn closed the office and made it to the hospital in record time. Ty met her as she came into the waiting area. The strain was showing on his face as he briefed her on her boss’s condition.

“He’s going to be alright. He threw up a lot of the vodka, so that helped. His breathing was pretty shallow though so they put him on a respirator. He has a couple of IVs, but I guess other than that he has to just ride it out.”

“Can we see him?” she asked in a worried voice.

Ty shook his head. “Michele’s with him. She’ll be out in a minute to let us know how he is.” She looked like she needed a hug so he reached out for her. Dawn leaned into him, drawing strength from his embrace. Anders was such a dick, but she didn't want anything to happen to him.

Michele came breezing into the room and smiled. “The little bastard will live. Unfortunately.”  The other people in the room stared at her, but she ignored them. She gestured at Ty and Dawn. “Come with me.”

As they walked down the hall, she described his condition when he came in with complete disregard for Anders’ privacy. It wasn’t pretty. Apparently they had simply cut his vomit-stained clothing off of him, something that she was delighted would piss Anders off. She even made them throw away his shoes. 

“He drank at least 1,000ml of vodka, most likely more than that. What was he trying to do, kill himself?” She stopped outside the ER. “His blood alcohol level was .45. Another tenth of a point and you probably would have been planning his funeral. What the fuck is going on with the little prick?”

Both Ty and Dawn just looked stricken. “He’s been depressed since he got back from Norway.” Dawn finally said. “That woman he left in charge didn’t do much except give orders and we’ve lost a lot of clients...most of them actually.”

Ty’s face hardened. “That woman was our mother.”

“You mean his own mother sent him on a trip and then practically wrecked his business?” Dawn was horrified.

He nodded. “She was that kind of person.”

“What do you mean...was? Is she dead?”

“I don’t know. I just know that she’s gone.” He looked down at the floor. “With her it’s kinda the same thing. When she left the last time she was gone for fourteen years. Who knows if she will ever come back this time. I just know we won't hear from her.”

Michele smiled at Dawn's expression. “You don't think these boys got this way without having a thoroughly fucked up family, did you?” Dawn shot her a glare that she ignored. “They were extubating him as I left. He didn't need the respirator any more. He didn't care much for the catheter either. Let me pop in to see if he's done cursing everyone out and then you can see him.”

She was only gone for a minute, then came back grinning. “He's not really done swearing yet, but nothing that you haven't already heard. I liked him better with the tube down his throat. You can go on in. Be sure to ask him about the catheter.”

Ty peeked around the corner, saw Anders lying there looking small and tired, and ventured into the room, with Dawn close behind him. He spotted them and his natural pugnacious personality made an attempt at reasserting itself. 

“What the fuck? My throat hurts like a bitch. They told me you did this to me, Ty. When I get out of here I am going to kick your ass. They stuck a tube down my throat and one in my dick. In my dick, Ty! I'm going to kill you for this!”

Ty's worry vanished to be replaced by irritation. “Want me to call Michele back and tell her to shove a tube up your ass? She'll do it. Now shut the hell up. You drank so much you poisoned yourself.” 

He came to stand next to the bed. Anders looked like ten miles of bad road. “Were you trying to kill yourself? If you were you damned near succeeded.”

“No I wasn't trying to kill myself, you asshole. Now get me the fuck out of here.” He tried to sit up but fell backwards as his strength deserted him.

“You can't leave until you detox, you egg. You're still drunk and you're sick. Now for once in your life behave and shut the fuck up!” Ty's face was a storm cloud.

Dawn put a hand on his arm and stepped next to Anders. Her face was pained and her eyes filled with tears. “You scared us, Anders.”

“Aw, Dawnsie don't cry,” he whispered. “I'm a dick. I'm stupid as fuck and I didn't mean to scare you.” He looked over at Ty. “Him, I don't care about, but you...” He reached out for her but ended up waving his hand randomly until she captured it. “I can't lose you. You're the only thing good in my life.”

“Fuck you,” Ty muttered.

“No thanks, I'll pass.” He looked at his brother's pained look. “You both are the best things in my life. Really. You broke into my house and saved me. Best burglar ever, or maybe the worst. Did you take anything?” He frowned when Ty shook his head. “Worse burglar ever. Best brother though. Shit. You're going to get a swelled head, but what the fuck I'm drunk and almost dead so I can say anything. But when I'm sober...”

Ty chuckled. “I know, you'll be a dick again.”

“Fuck my throat hurts!”

His brother smiled fondly at him. “It would hurt less if you'd shut up.”

Ty's phone rang. It was Mike. Anders roused enough to shoot his brother an angry look. “Tell that fucker that this room is a Mike-free zone. I don't want to see him when I wake up.”

“Yeah,” Ty said. “He's feeling better. He's being Anders. I'll call you later.” He hung up and came over to the bed. “You're a dick, but you're my brother and if you do this again I'm going to kick your ass all the way to Whangarei.”

Anders reached up and took his hand. He gave it a squeeze and Ty knew it was a “thank you” something that Anders had always had trouble saying out loud. He laid his brother's hand back on the bed. “Get some sleep, big brother; we will be back later.” 

Anders was having trouble keeping his eyes open. Between the effects of the vodka and the stress of being hospitalized, he was exhausted. He started to drift off. Looking up at Dawn he whispered something. She couldn't hear it and leaned over still holding his hand.

“I'm not gay, Dawn.” He looked at her, blue eyes gray with weariness. “I'm not.”

She squeezed his hand. “I know you aren't. Get some sleep and we will see you this evening when you feel better.”

Anders tried to watch them go, but his eyes were closed before they even made it out the door.

Ty opened the car door for her. “What was it that he said back there?”

Dawn smiled guiltily, she hated to fib. “He told me to take care of things.”

“Yeah, he needs someone to take care of things.” He looked in her eyes. “He's drinking a lot since he got back, isn't he? Dawn nodded. “Maybe this wasn't as much of an accident as it looks.

Ty leaned on the car and stared at the ground. “He's an experienced drinker and he knows his limit. What if this wasn't an accident? What if he just decided to check out and give a final ‘fuck you’ to what passes as his family? He shoots though and we have to deal with a funeral and guilt and all that shit. Maybe he saw it as a win-win situation.”

She looked up at Ty, her lip quivering. He wanted to kiss her, but settled for drawing her in for a hug. “He's okay for now, but we're going to have to keep a close eye on him when he gets out.”

“How,” she sniffled against his shoulder, “are we going to do that?”

“I don't know, Dawn.” He whispered into her hair. “I just don't know.”

Reluctantly, Ty dropped Dawn back at the office so that she could wrangle what few clients they had left. He wanted to give her another hug but opted for a sympathetic pat on the arm. 

Dawn checked for messages, but finding none, she made herself a cup of tea and sat down to check email. After she read the same message three times she gave up and closed the laptop. What a horrible way to start the day. Ty came back later and brought her a sandwich. He stayed for a while but he had to get back to work. She tried to keep the office open for a normal day, but there just wasn't anything to do.

All she could think about was Anders lying on his floor dying. 1000ml was a full bottle of Fenrir vodka. A full bottle and he had drunk more than that. What could possess him to do something that stupid?

“I'm not gay, Dawn.” She heard him whisper it again. Why would he say that? He was the most relentlessly heterosexual man she'd ever met...unless he wasn't. 

The phone rang so softly that if Mitchell hadn't been a vampire he wouldn't have heard it. Not wanting to see it he'd stuffed it in his drawer under his socks. When he woke he was already in motion and managed to grab and answer before it went to message.

“Anders?” he asked hopefully.

“No, it's Dawn. I'm sorry I woke you, I forgot about the time difference.”

“You didn't text me the address to return the phone,” he said defensively. 

“It's okay, I didn't call you to talk about the phone.” She was silent for a long minute and Mitchell asked if she was still there.

“I'm here. I just don't know how to ask you something.”

“Ask me what?” He sat down on the bed wide awake, but completely puzzled. 

“Is Anders gay?” She sucked in a long breath and quickly said, “I'm sorry, but I don't know any other way to phrase it.”

“I don't think it's my place to talk about Anders,” Mitchell responded coldly.

“I...I'm not trying to pry. I know it's none of my business but he's in hospital and...” 

Before she could say more Mitchell cut in. “What happened, is he alright?” His voice had an edge of panic to it.

“He's fine, or he will be,” Dawn reassured him. 

Mitchell was panicky. “What happened to him? Are you sure he'll be okay?”

“He drank so much he gave himself alcohol poisoning. His brother found him passed out. He's called an ambulance. I just left him and he's sleeping.” She could feel the escalation of Mitchell's emotions. “He's been drinking a lot lately.”

“Oh jaysus.” It was a moan softly whispered. “When he didn’t call I was afraid he was having second thoughts. I didn't know it had gotten that bad.” He brought his fist down on his knee. “I should have called him. I should have called.”

“He's a grown man and he can make his own decisions.”

“I know.” He blew out a long breath. “I knew I should have walked away. All I do is hurt people.”

“I'm sure that's not true,” Dawn told him, trying to be reassuring.

“It is. You don't know me. I knew it was wrong, but I wanted it to work out.” The tears were welling up in his eyes made worse because he couldn’t honestly say if they were for Anders or for himself. 

“So you and Anders were...uh...together?” God this was so uncomfortable to ask someone.

“Yes. I let him talk me into it. I should have known better.”

Dawn almost smiled. “Anders can talk anyone into anything. Don't blame yourself.”

“I tried to talk him out of it, but then I was afraid he'd just find someone else and I thought I could keep him safe.” His voice broke. “I didn't. I didn't keep him safe.”

She bit her lower lip and then just said what she'd been thinking since she dialed the number. “I know it’s asking a lot, but do you think you could come to Auckland?”

“What?”

'I know it’s probably impossible but if you could come it might be a help. He's been drinking heavily and...”

“And you're afraid he'll kill himself the next time.” He spoke without emotion. He didn't think he could handle the thought of Anders being dead. No more smiles with dimples or impossibly blue eyes...no more laughter.

“I can come, but I don't have the money for the ticket.” He looked around the room, his vision sharp even in the darkness, assessing what he would need to pack. 

“That will be taken care of.” She was checking reservations as she spoke. She still had Agnetha's credit card and if there wasn't money on it, then Johnson PR would pick up the tab. It was a business expense. It didn't matter if they didn't have any money. If he didn't come—there wouldn't be any business. She made the reservations and confirmed that the departure time was doable.

Mitchell turned the phone off and sat there looking at the blank screen. His mind was refusing to process the conversation. He scrunched his eyes shut as if that would help. Anders was in the hospital and he was to come to New Zealand. New Fucking Zealand. A half a world away and he had only a few hours to prepare and get down to Heathrow. 

He pressed the phone to his forehead feeling the dark coolness of the screen. Did he want to go? Did he want to get involved with whatever shit was making Anders this unhappy? Could he deal with a crazy family? Was it safe for him to leave his support system here? He wasn’t going to have time to feed before he left. He’d been kidding himself anyway about that anyway. It was get off blood or go back to who he had been. Junkies can’t just mainline a little smack down and again and go on as if they never have the craving for more. Just the thought of blood made his mouth water. 

_Fuck this!_ He forced the thought away, lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, the phone clutched in his hand like a lifeline. _What do I want? I wanted him to call, but he didn't, because he was too busy trying to kill himself._ He rolled over. _Shit, stop being a drama queen!_

But what did he want? He rolled it over and over in his mind. They'd had a fling. It had only lasted a few days with promises to call, but how many of those had he experienced over his long life? It was what it was, an affair that Anders promptly went home to forget. He didn't want to go and get in the middle of dysfunctional gods. 

The brunette closed his eyes and relaxed. Unbidden, the image of Anders floated to the surface and hung there. He was smiling, eyes amazing blue, lips a perfect cupid's bow and dimples framing his smile. The smile faded to be replaced by the look of fear when he saw Mitchell's eyes go black and cold. And then, by some miracle he'd watched those eyes, grey with fear, warm back to blue and look up at him with trust. Before he could banish it he also saw him curled in the corner caught in the nightmare as he begged not to be hurt. He saw himself lift Anders and curl around him to protect him...to shield him from the things that would hurt him.

Anders was hurt and Mitchell had promised that he would keep him safe. He couldn't keep him safe half a world away. 

He got up and started to pack. He was trying to be as quiet as possible as he went through his drawers, but he must have been too loud. Annie popped in and nearly gave him heart failure.

“Jaysus!” He took a step back as he turned and nearly ran into her. 

“Not quite,” she replied glaring at him. “What on earth are you doing?” She got between him and the suitcase and refused to move.

“I'm goin' to New Zealand.” He tried to get around her, but she stepped to block him.

“It's three in the morning, Mitchell. Are you sleepwalking or something?” She was both put out and worried. She watched him as he deftly slid past her and put the shift on the bed, then spun to dig in his drawer for socks.

“I'm not daft. I got a phone call from Anders' secretary.” He gave her a happy little smile. “Not his wife—his secretary and she said he's sick and he needs me.”

“He needs you at three o'clock in the morning?” 

“No, egg, it's not the middle of the night there.” He finally grabbed a handful of socks and stuffed them into the suitcase.

“I wish you'd stop calling me that. I'm starting to dislike the word.” She picked the socks up, but he took them away from her and put them back in.

“Stop that. This is serious. I have to go.” He tried to glare at her, but this was Annie and he looked about as angry as a puppy.

Annie flipped the lid shut and sat on the suitcase. “Now stop sounding like you're mental and tell me what's going on.”

Knowing when he was beaten he stood there with a pair of jeans drooping in his hand and repeated what Dawn had told him. 

“So you want to run halfway across the world for a suicidal alcoholic?” She was obviously not convinced.

The corner of his mouth twitched as his nerves kicked into high gear. “I have to go.” He forced a deep breath. I _want_ to go.”

He stood there looking like a lost child. “I'm in love with him, Annie. I don't know how it happened, but I am.”

She smiled at him and stood up, arms outstretched. Hugging Mitchell was always the easiest thing she'd ever done. She wound her arms around him drinking in soft scent of tobacco, hair product and something deeper and wilder. She was going to miss him.

“I know you are, I've seen it in your eyes. I was wondering if you would ever admit it to yourself.” She stepped back. “What times does your plane leave?”

“18:05,” he replied. 

“Okay we have plenty of time to get you packed and get you on a coach to the airport. Do you think you can get a little more sleep?”

He laughed. “I don't need the sleep I get now. I'm too awake to sit still.”

She helped him choose clothes and he had to admit that she was a genius at packing. She put in the clothes that flattered him the most, discarding some of his previous choices. He left her to it and pulled out a gym bag and went into the bathroom to get his shampoo and other personal items. He tried to be quiet, but wasn't quiet enough.

George came staggering out of his room closely followed by Nina. “What in the bloody hell are you about? It's five thirty for god's sake. We don't have to be up for another hour.”

“Sorry, I was just getting my things.” He shoved the bottles under one arm and closed the cabinet door.

“Why?” George could be the most bemused looking man Mitchell had ever seen. Nina was standing next to him, hair disarrayed, blinking sleepily at him.

“Yeah, why?” she echoed.

Annie popped around the doorway. “Because he's going to Auckland!”

They ended up sitting around the kitchen table in various stages of alertness, scooping up cereal or tea and toast while Mitchell retold the story of meeting Anders and what had transpired until this morning. 

Nina waved her toast around. “So you're in love with this bloke and you're buggering off to Auckland to rescue him? Did I miss anything here?”

“It doesn't sound very romantic when you put it like that,” Annie said wrinkling her nose.

“I'm just trying to get a handle on this.” Nina said sagely. “You, a vampire, are going to put yourself in a pressurized tube of Meals on Wheels flying at 10 kilometers for what, 24 hours?”

“Nina!” George was aghast.

Mitchell looked at his cereal. “I think I can refrain from slaughtering the whole plane, Nina.”

She took another bite of toast and looked thoughtful. “When was the last time you fed?”

“Nina!” George put his hand on her arm. “Really, that's enough.”

She pointed her toast at Mitchell. “Let's get realistic here. Things are what they are for us. Like it or not, George and I have to go someplace private during the full moon. You need blood at certain intervals. It's the way life is, like the moon following the sun. It's insanity for you to go on a trip like this if you haven't fed.”

The Irishman started to stand up but Nina leaned over and snapped. “Don't get in a snit about facts. I'm the realist here. You need blood and you haven't given a thought about where you are going to get it.” 

He started to say something but she snorted. “Typical man. I'm going to run into work. I will be back shortly. Do not go anywhere.”

They heard the stamping around upstairs and then a rapid descent of the stairs and the slam of the door.

“For a small woman she can make an ungodly amount of noise,” George observed. He couldn't quite hide his smile. He loved her for her cheekiness and her sass and the warm heart the lay beneath her no-nonsense exterior. 

Mitchell had finished packing when Nina returned. She yelled for him and he obediently came down. 

“Stay here,” she commanded without explanation. She nodded to George and the two of them went upstairs leaving Mitchell and Annie in the living room.

“They're being very mysterious,” Annie observed, trying to decide between the vampire's jackets. She settled on the black leather with double snaps and folded it carefully.

“Yeah, they are. But you know...hey, I don't need so many clothes...” he took a black hoodie from her and hung it up.

She took it back out of the closet. “It's spring down there, and I'm sure it will get a little chilly. You know how you're always cold. It's not like you'll be able to come and get something from home. And we don't know when you're coming back.” She deliberately didn't say “if.” She was afraid if she did she would start to sniffle. She always had been one for the waterworks. Her mum told her she wore her heart on her sleeve where anyone could bruise it. She probably did, but it was too late to stop now.

He let her pack the black hoodie, watching her with his heart in his throat. He was going to miss her like a part of himself. He wondered if she could pop all the way to New Zealand. He hoped she could. He'd love to introduce her to Anders.

Mitchell and Annie were in the kitchen when George and Nina came downstairs and joined them. Nina nodded to Annie and said, “You might want to leave for a few minutes.”

“Why?”

“Because George and I have a little goodbye present for Mitchell.” She held out a tumbler dark with their blood. “Bon appetit.”

Annie vanished so quickly the air shifted a little. Mitchell stared at the glass with an incredulous look on his face. “Oh bloody hell what have you done?”

“Giving you the one goodbye present we know you really need,” George said softly. “We'll be in the living room.”

Mitchell took the tumbler from Nina and watched them leave the room. He stared at the blood in the glass and felt his eyes tear up. It never occurred to him that they would donate blood for him. It was just amazing. 

He didn't feel right drinking it, but they'd sacrificed to provide it. He raised the glass in a little toast to incredible friends, tipped it up and downed it, letting the thick warm liquid slide over his tongue. The taste was slightly bitter, and more metallic than human blood. Werewolves were different from humans, but their blood worked just as well. He could feel himself becoming more energetic and a hunger that he hadn't even recognized stilled and curled up in his stomach like a warm kitten. He washed the glass and then rinsed his mouth thoroughly, gargling to try to get rid of as much scent as he could. Of course they'd still be able to smell it on him, but he'd done his best. He picked a mint off the table and popped it into his mouth before heading into the living room.

They were sitting there looking on edge. Mitchell walked up to them and held out his arms. They both came in for a hug. He held them tightly, letting the tears run. What had he ever done to deserve friends like these? He was so grateful to them for their support and understanding. Until this moment he hadn't realized how difficult leaving them was going to be. 

Getting on the coach proved to be wrenching and he wasn't sure if the looks he got when he boarded were jealousy or irritation. Several people smiled at him, so he guessed their weeping separation hadn't been quite as Oscar-worthy as he'd feared. 

He looked out to see the three of them passing tissues back and forth. He blinked rapidly to keep from joining them. 

A soft voice came from across the isle. “They must love you very much.”

He turned to face the elderly woman. “Yes, they do and I'm going to miss them terribly.”

She nodded. “But they will be waiting for you when you come back.”

“Yes,” he said quietly, “I believe they will.”

 

* * * * *

 

After the emotion of getting packed and saying goodbye picking up his ticket and boarding seemed like an anticlimax. He had one of the cheapest seats but it didn't matter. He could sit motionless, his attention focused inward. He told his seatmates it was a special type of meditation. His seatmates thought it was a special type of crazy and ignored him for the entire flight. That was fine with Mitchell he had a lot of things to think about.

He tried to focus on what he was going to say and what he might have to do. Memories of his own battle with addiction were still far too new and raw. He was worried about Anders. He couldn't bear to think of him being sad and miserable. He hadn't had to go through it alone and neither did Anders...not any more.

As he meditated, unbidden images of the Anders floated to the front and refused to leave. The blond god walked into his thoughts the same way as he'd walked into Mitchell's life—bold as brass and twice as shiny. He might be having some regrets now but then he knew what he wanted and who he wanted. He'd come into the Irishman's arms and into his body over and over, loving every moment of it. He just needed to be reminded of the joy.

Mitchell relaxed into the memories: Anders golden and gloriously nude wandering unselfconsciously around the hotel room, then realizing he was being watched straightening up and sucking in his stomach. Anders stripping to get into the shower, neatly folding and hanging his clothes. Anders stripping to get into bed, hurling expensive suit pants across the room to join the rumpled shirt on the floor. Anders kissing him so hard he couldn't draw breath to moan and then sliding possessively down to claim what was his. By the time the plane entered Kazakhstan air space the vampire was well and truly glad for the restriction of his skinny jeans and the magazine laying on his lap. 

Anders made love with a delicious combination of unsurety and gusto. He was alternately shy and voracious, predator and prey. The latter thought made Mitchell's cock twist uncomfortably in his jeans as it filled even more.

Two top predators in the same bed. A vampire with white fangs and a thirst for blood and a god with a lust for power and the ability to manipulate anyone. It should not have been a match made in Valhalla. But within each was a core of humanity that defined the hunter. Roles of predator and prey, were dropped like their shed clothing. Together they were magic.

Mitchell shifted in his seat as he remembered the god straddling him, sitting easily at the curve of his waist strong thighs squeezing, gentle hands playing the lanky body beneath him like a fine instrument. He was a fast learner, that golden Kiwi. He now knew just how much squeeze he could put on a delicate golden-pink nipple to call forth soft moans and now much more pressure to use to pull forth yet another orgasm from a body already sated.

He'd watched Anders slide down his body, nipping and licking, setting every inch of skin ablaze as he worked his way down to his goal. Feeling the soft slide of the god's testicles across his pinned erection and then the rasp of his cock was almost too much. Once in position, the blond had learned to judge and knew not to descend immediately, but to wait looking up at the Irishman’s face, for permission to be granted. Once given, he bent down slowly, lips and mouth sucking, spreading the satin slick of pre-come along the hot shaft. 

Mitchell had watched him, marveling that such an amazing man would be interested in him. True he was far away from New Zealand where no one would know him. The vampire tried not to think about that. Nor did he want to visit the fact that he tended to leap into relationships, fall in love and have his feelings ripped to shreds every single time. He always hoped that this one would be the one, the one who would save him from himself. 

When it got too intense, he pulled the god upward for a long shivering kiss, his tongue tasting himself bitter and slick. Reaching easily behind himself, he hauled some pillows under his shoulders, propping himself up enough to even their height. Groin fitted to groin and he purred as he felt Anders cock slide against his, the dry skin tugging harshly against his moistness. He reached over, scored some lube and then slid his hand between their bodies to clasp them both in a slippery embrace. 

The god groaned and looked up at him, eyes impossibly blue, dimples impossibly deep, perfect lips curved into lazy smile. He looked at Mitchell for what seemed like hours and then blinked and licked his lips slowly and lasciviously.

“Have I told you how gorgeous you are?” His voice was whiskey and honey, shivering along the Irishman's cock as he spoke. “Your eyes are the most amazing gold. I love when you get hot and they go dark and chocolate like they are now.”

Mitchell leaned in for a slow erotic kiss, tongues sliding smoothly over each other. “You really are the god of poetry.”

“I am when I'm with you, my _ipo_...my lover.” He moaned softly as the vampire squeezed their cocks together. “If I ever find out what the fuck a sonnet is, I'll write you one, all about what you're doing to me.”

“Mmmm, and where will you publish this work of art?”

“Front page of the Herald, where else?” He licked Mitchell's lips slowly tracing his cupid's bow. 

The Irishman, squeezed tighter and twisted his hand making his partner grunt with pleasure and press hard into him. “I'll have to get a subscription.” 

Tired of waiting for attention, Anders started slowly thrusting. “I'll get you one. Fuck, I'll get you two if you just shut the hell up and...

“Do this?” Mitchell filled in, gripping tighter and running his thumb over the head of Anders' cock. 

“Yis...” It was drawn out into a hiss of pleasure as he peaked, shooting jet after jet to coat his partner's hand and cock. He set the vampire off and rode it out with him, propped enough so that he could watch Mitchell's orgasm. 

They had relaxed and then fallen asleep to wake chilled and glued together. Mitchell smiled at the memory. He shifted again. If he kept having these thoughts he was going to have to pay a trip to the men's room for a line alone time. His cock twitched again and he amended it. Maybe a lot of alone time...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did promise to update every week and was enough ahead at the time. Life, unfortunately has gotten in the way and it might be two weeks before the next chapter. Sorry about that. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has hung in with Mitchell and Anders on this bumpy ride. They are good together, so expect improvement, growth and sexytimes.


	4. My Light Shall Be the Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitchell finds that Auckland lacks the patina of age that he is used to in England. He's a stranger in a strange land hoping to be welcomed, but altogether unsure of himself and his relationship with Anders.
> 
> Anders just wishes to be left alone amid the wreckage of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are not starting with [**Smoke and Mirrors**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1034616) you are missing the first story in the One Heart Beating for Two trilogy.
> 
> This is the second story: [**Blowing Away the Smoke**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1054179)

My light shall be the moon,  
And my path - the ocean.  
My guide the morning star,  
As I sail home to you.

Anders felt like crap. They'd moved him into a room that he was sharing with an elderly man who slept all the time, thank god. He wanted to pull the IV and go home, but when he tried to sit up he nearly passed out. He laid back until the room stopped spinning. Fucking weak sister, he couldn't even man-up and get out of there. He hated hospitals and now he was stuck in one. He was bemoaning his fate when Michelle came breezing in.

“How's the family lush feeling?” She looked at his chart, ignoring his glare. “I see you apparently still have a liver. Too bad, I thought we might be able to get rid of you. I guess that will take a bit more time. But not too much, the way you’re going at the bottle.”

She walked over next to the bed. “So are you deliberately trying to kill yourself or are you just too stupid to know when to stop drinking? Not that I much give a shit, but you're upsetting Mike.”

“Get the fuck out!” He tried to sound authoritative, but his throat was still sore from the tube and it came out more as a croak. 

She laughed. “You sound like the toad you are. Well, you'll be happy to know I put you in for a psych consult.” He made a strangled noise and she laughed delightedly. “Don't thank me, it's the law. Health Care doesn't want to pay any more than they have to for your sorry ass. With any luck they'll commit you. Now _that_ I would pay to see.”

“Did you just stop by to insult me, or is there a reason for this visit?” Anders tried to summon some bravado. “If you're done just get out.”

“Oh I'm not nearly done, sweetie.” She gave him her most dazzling smile. “I came to remove your catheter.”

He survived the humiliation of the catheter removal. It wasn't the way he'd planned to show Michelle his dick. He tried not to think about it. Some day he'd get his back. He owed her one for this. He survived the shrink too. He was a tired-looking man who listened to Bragi, marked down “accidental overdose” and left with a nod and a smile. If only he could handle his fellow deities with that kind of ease. 

He watched the small TV for awhile and then gave it up. His head was aching and he felt like death warmed over. He twitched a tiny smile at that. He'd come so close. When he was in his teens he thought about it a number of times. He knew if his father found out his son was a queer he'd probably get beaten to death and he didn’t think Mike would be far behind. Tolerance was hardly a Johnson family trait. Substance abuse. Physical abuse; avoiding responsibility -- now that was more their speed. Getting wasted and shooting through was what they did best. 

Anders was keenly aware that he had been drinking too much. He knew his limit and lately he'd been exceeding it regularly. He threw his arm over his face to block the light, but it couldn't block the thoughts. No matter how much he drank he couldn't shut out the memory of those laughing eyes and curls like black silk. Nor could he forget the feel of that long lean body against his, the scrape of his chest hair, the sweetness of his kisses or the hot hard length of his cock. 

He didn't want to be gay and maybe he wasn't completely, but he couldn't deny how much he missed what he'd had for those few days in London. For the first time in his life he was himself, taking his pleasure as he chose and not worrying about it. It was amazing to be turned on mentally and not just physically; to still be turned on even after his body had had way more than enough. There were no judgments in that hotel room. There was only pleasure and a feeling of being at ease with who and what he was. 

He turned off the light and tried to get comfortable. Before he drifted off he had a thought that made him smile wryly. It says something when the fact that your lover being a vampire worries you less than the fact that he is male. 

 

* * * * * * 

Dawn was waiting for Mitchell when he disembarked. She'd sent him a selfie and he had no trouble recognizing her. She was lovely and competent, exactly as he'd pictured her when talking with her on the phone. She stood there waiting, checking out every male who came past. He had said that he was having trouble with the camera function on the phone wasn't working correctly. He should be able to be photographed with a digital camera as there was no film with silver components, but he hadn't experimented with it and thought it unwise to take the risk. 

Somehow she knew him the instant he strode into sight. He was, quite simply, one of the most handsome men she'd ever seen. He was Anders' complete opposite, the Yin to his Yang. Tall, lanky, scruffy and wearing clothes straight out of a charity shop and yet, somehow, she couldn't take her eyes off of him. He called to her and waved, giving her the most amazing smile. She had no difficulty at all understanding why her boss would fall for him. 

She waved back and smiled, starting toward him. She was quite lovely, with her no-nonsense hairdo framing her face accenting both her beauty and her personality. He knew from their conversation that she was briskly competent. No wonder Anders had hired her. He was willing to bet that when push came to shove, she was the one who ran the office. She looked up at him with cool green eyes flashing intelligence and there was no bet – she ran the business and probably Anders as well. His smile widened.

“Mitchell, I'm so glad you made it,” her soft Kiwi accent washed over him and he suddenly felt very much at home. 

“So am I. How's Anders?” He felt rude, but he couldn't wait. He had to know.

“He was discharged home about two hours ago. His doctor said that he's lucky and that he did no permanent damage to himself. I had the distinct impression that she had deliberately not made it easy for him in hopes that discourages him in the future.”

Mitchell shook his head. “I don't know what will discourage him if he makes his mind up. He struck me as being fairly determined.”

“How long did you say you've known Anders?” she asked, walking along side him to the luggage area.

“I don't believe I said.” he replied. “Not nearly long enough, I'm sure.”

When he stopped in front of the carousel she gave him a long look. “You two just met while he was in Norway, didn't you?”

“No, not Norway. In England going and coming.” He avoided acknowledging the pun. “We met, he left, he returned for a few days and left again.” 

“Oh.”

He looked down into her soft green eyes. “Yes, it was exactly like that. It was only a few days. For him it was probably just a fling.”

She shook her head. “I don't think so. I think it was a lot more than that. He hasn't been himself since he got back. That's why you're here.”

“It is?” He reached down and grabbed his battered suitcase from the carousel.

“Yes it is.” Dawn was smiling. “I think for the first time he found what he's been looking for, but he doesn't know how to deal with it, so he's running away.” She turned to face Mitchell. “I think you _do_ know how to deal. I think you know a lot of things that he doesn't.”

He didn't know what to say and ended up looking down at his shoes thinking they needed polishing. “I don't know that I do know how to deal with this or anything.” He looked up at her, brown eyes sad and worried. “I'm crap at relationships. How do I know this one will be any better?”

She smiled sweetly. “You don't. None of us do. But when it's the right one, then it all works out.” She beckoned for him to follow her and they headed for the parking garage.

“Easy for you to say.”

She laughed. “Not really. I'm in the middle of one of those complicated ones. My boyfriend is Anders' brother, Ty.” 

His head shot up and he looked at her wondering how much she knew. She looked back at him calmly and he was positive that there were some things that she hadn't found out yet. He wondered how much more complicated her relationship was going to get. 

“Well, maybe we can get together at some point and commiserate with each other about the brothers Johnson.”

“You know,” she said as she unlocked her car and popped the trunk, “I think I'd like that.”

The ride to Anders' house was interesting. Auckland was completely different than any place he'd ever been. The architecture was new and modern. Everything seemed to be sleek and concrete with a lot of glass. The late spring sun was intense and he was glad he'd remembered his sunglasses. It all just looked much cleaner and brighter. There was none of the heaviness of age that all English cities had. No one knew him here. He would be able to walk down the street in peace. Leaning back into the seat he allowed himself to relax.

They pulled up in front of Anders' place and it was nothing like Mitchell had thought it would be. He had the idea that the god was wealthy, or at least well off, but this was the home of someone who was working for a living. It was a nice little condo, but was in the middle of the business district, not in a development with huge lawns and palm trees. He pushed his surprise away and found that he was relieved. Maybe there wasn't such a big gap between them after all.

“Do you want me to go up with you?” Dawn asked. “After all, I did get you into this.”

Mitchell shook his head. “I think he'll be a lot more comfortable if you don't. Let me grab my luggage and I'll go on up. With any luck I won't be calling you for a ride to a hotel.”

Dawn popped the trunk for him. “I'll wait here, just in case.”

The longest walk Mitchell had ever taken was up those four steps to Anders' door. The glass doors let him see a lot of the condo. There was no activity. Half hoping that Anders wasn't home, he set his bags down, pulled the phone out, tucked it in his pocket, removed his sunglasses and rang the doorbell.

He was about to ring it for a second time when the Kiwi came around the corner and started for the door. He had shaved his beard and was wearing an expensive black and grey sweatsuit that managed to look impossibly classy. The reflection in the glass of the door showed Mitchell that he looked anything but. 

Anders got almost to the door when he stopped abruptly and just stood there.  
Mitchell had a moment of panic and almost bolted, but he steeled himself and stood quietly until the god recovered from the surprise of seeing him and came forward to open the door.

Mitchell gave him a nervous little smile. “I came to return your mobile.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” His face clouded into a frown. Mitchell suddenly felt like an unwelcome magazine salesman. 

“Really. I brought your mobile.” The Irishman's voice was quiet, his words unsure. He pulled the pulled the phone out, holding it tentatively.

“You already said that.” The god's blue eyes were gray, his dimples nonexistent. He looked old and he looked incredibly tired. 

Mitchell crashed. He knew this was a mistake. He was always taking risks and they never paid off. His shoulders slumped and he blinked quickly to hide the stupid tears that were always so close to the surface. He held out the phone.

“Take it and I'll be on my way. I...I'm sorry to have disturbed you.”

Anders took the phone. He looked at the luggage and then up at the taller man. “Where are you staying?”

The vampire shrugged. “I'll find something,” he mumbled. “I didn't come to be a bother. I was...I was worried about you.”

Anders' frown deepened and then looked past Mitchell seeing Dawn's car. His expression hardened. “How in the hell did you get here?” His eyes narrowed. “Did Dawn contact you?”

“She was worried about you. So was I.”

“She had no right to pry.” There was a cutting edge to his voice now and his eyes darkened as his brows pulled lower. 

The vampire felt protective of her. She'd gone out of her way to try to help. His irritation with Anders' attitude flared. “She had every right, Anders. You nearly killed yourself. She's your secretary...and your friend. In spite of what you may think, there are people who do care what happens to you.” 

The god snorted, his face twisting into an ugly expression. “I don't have any friends.” The words were sharp and bitter.

Mitchell's expression hardened. “Don't just blow it off. I'm one of them. You gave me your phone and then you didn't call. You left me to wonder and to wait. I thought we had something special.”

The god shook his head stiffly. His voice was tight making his accent more prominent. “We had a fling. Don't make it out to be something it wasn't.”

Mitchell picked up his bag. “You have your phone back. I think I should just go now. This was a mistake.”

The vampie looked as crushed as he felt. The beauty had drained from his face along with all expression. Golden eyes had turned to chocolate and shone too brightly in the warm Auckland sun. He just wanted to get away and go some place where he could be miserable in private.

Conscience prickling, Anders reached out to stop him from picking up the suitcase. “I'm sorry. You came all this way and I'm making you stand outside. I told you I can be a prick.” He stepped to the side. “Come in and bring your bags.”

He looked past Mitchell at Dawn and waved goodbye to her. He wanted to flip her the bird, but knew she would never tolerate it. He saw her pull away as he closed the door.

The Irishman set his bags down just inside the door and stood there unsure what to say or do. Anders was just as nervous and motioned for him to come in. 

“Take your jacket off.”Anders paused and looked at his hands. “I see you got a new pair of gloves.”

The vampire nodded. “Yeah, that hand just doesn't like to get cold. I can take 'em off if they bother you.”

The god shook his head. “No, they're kind of part of you in away. John Mitchell, curly hair and fingerless gloves. Cheeky bloke. Likes to appear out of no where on people's doorsteps.”

The corner of Mitchell's mouth twitched into a smile. “That's me. A portable fashion statement.” He hung his jacket in the closet by the door and stood still not quite knowing what to do.

Mitchell hesitated, unsure of his welcome. Anders expression lightened and he looked sheepish. “Really. Come in. You've had a long trip and I'm telling you to bugger off like an arsehole.”

Anders was just as nervous and motioned for him to come in. He didn't know what to do with his hands and finally shoved them in the pockets of the sweatsuit.The Irishman set his bags down just inside the door and stood there unsure what to say or do. 

Anders gestured toward the living room. “Have a seat. I take it you just got off the plane.”

Mitchell nodded. “I did just land. Auckland's pretty different from Bristol.” he sat down in the chair and stretched his legs out, feeling his left knee pop. “Dam, that's a long flight. I didn't get to see much because I didn't get a window seat, but the terminal in Hong Kong was fascinating.”

He stopped and smiled. “That reminds me, I got you a little something in Hong Kong.”

Standing up, Mitchell dug into his pocket pulling out a tiny red silk bag garnished with a golden tassel. He handed it to Anders. The god took it, opened the bag and dumped a small chain-less silver pendant into his hand. He picked it up and peered at it. “What is it?”

“It's the character for 'Fu.' It means blessings and good fortune.” He looked a little bashful. “I thought maybe you could put it on your deckchair, or something.”

Anders smiled a little. “That was thoughtful of you. I guess I need all the good luck I can get.” He slid it into his pocket. It was cheap and he'd end up throwing it in a drawer at some point but there was no point in insulting the Irishman.

Anders nodded, unable to think of anything to say. What do you say to literally the last person in the world you expect to show up on your doorstep? His nerves got the best of him and he went into the kitchen. The vampire heard the rattle of ice in a glass. “Can I get you a drink?”

Before the words were fully out of his mouth, Mitchell was standing next to him. The brunette gently but firmly lifted the glass of vodka out of his hand and dumped it into the sink. 

The god whirled, fury twisting his features. “How fucking dare you!” 

He made a grab for the glass, but found his wrist held immobile. He yanked his arm away, took a step back and swung hard. 

Mitchell caught his fist before it could land and held his hand tightly. “Don't hit me. I won't be abused. I care about you, but I won't let you hit me just because I stop you from killing yourself.”

“It's just a fucking drink,” Anders hissed.

He held Anders' hand a moment longer and then let it drop. Mitchell didn’t know how to react to him. He’d never seen him like this. He knew the god could be snarky, but he’d never seen the deep well of anger and self-hatred before. He thought his own was bad, but it paled in comparison to the Anders'. He wanted to reach out and hold him, but the smaller man was ready to go to war.

Anger and attack were the only ways Anders knew how to defend himself. If he couldn’t keep his enemies at bay with words, the Kiwi knew he had no hope of winning. His karate belt was half a lifetime past, the moves rusty and semi-forgotten. He glared up at the vampire, challenging him.

‘You flew all the way here on my dime to call me an alcoholic?” He was so angry his eyes were blazing sapphire.

“I didn’t say that.” Mitchell was trying to stay calm. “I said Dawn was worried about your drinking, that’s why she wanted me to come down. I’m worried about your drinking too.”

“This is pretty much the pot calling the kettle black, wouldn’t you say?” He backed up a step, eyeing the vodka bottle that was out of his reach. “I seem to remember you telling me that you have a bit of a drinking problem yourself.” He glared daggers. “At least mine will only kill me.”

Mitchell ignored the insult. “Mate, I’m not callin’ you anything. But when someone is passed out in their own vomit barely breathing it’s obviously out of control.” He noted the bottle and Anders’ glance toward it, but chose not to react.

“It was a fucking _accident!_ ”

Mitchell nodded. “Of course it was. If it was on purpose then it would be called a suicide attempt and you would still be in hospital.” 

“Dawn had no right to call you!” Anders licked his lips and reached into the sink to retrieve the tumbler. He ran a little water into it, sloshed it around and downed it, grimacing at the taste. 

“She’s your friend. She had every right to call anyone she thought could stop you from ending up back in hospital or in the morgue.” He looked at Anders and heaved a sigh. “Don’t be such a dick about this.”

The god’s laugh was bitter. “Yeah, well nobody gives a shit about me.” He glared up at Mitchell. “Never have and never will. I don’t have any fucking friends. I’m a dick...the family prick, just ask anyone. When I’m not being a prick, I’m a punching bag. I think I prefer being a prick, it hurts less.”

Mitchell’s brows drew down into a frown. “One of your brothers hit you?”

“Mike. Yeah. It's sort of his default reaction to me breathing.” He shrugged. “It’s not like it’s something I’m not used to. I piss him off and he punches me out. Not being as witty as me, he has to stoop to violence.” 

Mitchell winced. He'd gotten on well with his brothers and couldn't imagine being hit by one of them, not even if he'd ever let them know what he'd become. The Mike thing was definitely going to have stop whether or not he stayed.

Anders licked his lips again and eyed the bottle.

“You need a drink,” Mitchell said. It wasn’t a question. 

“Well, I was going to toast your visit, but now I think I might like a drink to try to forget it.” He looked from the bottle to the vampire, his eyes having shaded to grey. He hated that they betrayed his moods. 

“You mean you _need_ a drink,” Mitchell countered levelly. 

“Now it’s you bein’ the prick. Why don’t you get your skinny ass out of my kitchen and thumb a ride home?” His voice cut like a whip. “Or maybe you can just turn into a bat and flap your way across the ocean. I don’t give a fuck what you do, as long as you get the hell out of my house.”

“And you still need that drink. Insulting me isn’t the way to get it. You’re an addict. You don’t just want that drink...you need it.” The vampire kept his voice level, letting the god’s words roll off of him like water. It was the addict talking. He knew far too well how they acted and sounded. He’d been there himself more times than he cared to admit. 

“I’ll call the cops and have you thrown out.” He pulled the phone Mitchell had returned from his pocket and stood looking at it making no attempt to dial.

“No, you won’t. Me being here is the only thing keeping you out of the morgue. If I leave, you and that bottle are going to see who can kill the other first.”

“Don’t pull that shit on me. I told you it was an accident. Now get out of here and leave me in peace.” He slid the phone back into his pocket and took a step toward the Irishman. 

Mitchell let him come. When the blond got close, the vampire moved the bottle a little more out of reach and Anders exploded. “You sonofabitch!” He launched himself, cursing and swinging, too angry to be coordinated. The Irishman easily deflected the attack, turning Anders so that his back was pressed against Mitchell’s chest, holding him easily as he fought to break free. 

The god continued to struggle, but he was held too tightly. Unable to fight physically, he loosed a torrent of invective. Mitchell almost smiled at the creativity. The god did indeed know how to fight verbally. He listened to the continuing abuse, but didn’t let it bother him. He knew it was the addict talking and not Anders. 

When Anders finally took a breath, Mitchell quietly asked, “Are you done yet?”

“Not by half. Let me the fuck go and get out.”

“No and no.” 

Mitchell bent and pressed a gentle kiss onto the back of Anders' head. “You may have given up on yourself, but I haven't. You don't really think I flew half way around the world just to return your mobile, do you?” 

“Let me go you goddam prick!” He twisted, but Mitchell was a vampire and held him as easily as if he was a small child. 

“I'm not letting you go until you stop acting like an arse. I'm not your punching bag just because you're upset. If you will stop swinging, I'll let go.”

There was a beat of about ten and then the Irishman could feel the rage drain away and Anders' body nearly slumped. Mitchell released him and stepped back watching to see if the blond was truly done fighting. 

He looked up at the taller man, a look of utter defeat on his face. “I can't...” he mumbled.

“You can't what?” the question was as soft as the brown of Mitchell's eyes.

“I can't live like this.” His eyes were almost colorless with defeat. “Everything I do turns to shit. I built a business and a life and then my family comes in and destroys it while I'm out of the country.”

“I thought I knew who I was and then I met you. I don't know who I am...I don't know _what_ I am.” He looked around with a lost expression. “Suddenly it's all gone. Everything. Gone.”

He raised a hand and gestured at the living room. “This will be gone too. I can't make the payments. I'm going to be homeless. Just me and my fish sitting in a shelter somewhere. And you thought I was some hotshot businessman with money. I'm a fraud, I've always been a fraud.”

Mitchell reached out and traced gentle fingers down the side of Anders' face. “You're not a fraud. When I met you, you really were a hotshot businessman with money. Your crazy family is not your fault. You never lied to me.”

The Irishman essayed a slight smile. “Actually, I'm a bit relieved.” Anders' brows shot up. “As a hotshot businessman you were out of my league. Now...well...you and the fish won't mind if I share your cot at the shelter, will you?”

Anders stared at him and then said slowly. “You thought I was out of _your_ league?”

Mitchell knew that if he could he'd be blushing. “Yeah. Well...it's not every day that someone like you hits on someone like me, is it? I mean, a hospital cleaner and all?”

The blue was seeping back in the god's eyes. He looked up at the brunette for a long moment. “And you, the most gorgeous man I've ever met, who went so out of his way to make me comfortable and take care of me? No one is out of your league, Mitchell.” 

He reached out and wound his fingers through the persistent curl that dropped down the right side of the vampire's face. “Now, you're standing here in my kitchen after manhandling me, spouting this rubbish. Goddamn it, aren't you supposed to be making this better?”

Mitchell smiled, his eyes golden and warm. “Sure I am. That's why you spent all that money you don't have getting me here.”

He drew Anders to him and held him gently, smiling as the smaller man snuggled into his chest. “I can't promise that everything will be alright, but I can promise that you won't go through it alone.”

Anders hugged him again and then stepped back. His face was incredibly sad, his eyes shading to grey again. “How angry will you be if I say I still need a drink?” His voice was raw with shame and embarrassment. 

Mitchell very nearly snapped a double-take but then smiled gently. He'd been there several times and you don't just walk away from an addiction. He fished the glass out of the sink poured two fingers of vodka into it. He handed it to Anders and watched him down it without a blink. 

“You're going to have to detox,” he said as he took the glass back and set it in the sink. 

The god looked at him as if he'd just been told to throw away his Rolex. “Detox?” He said it as if the word itself had a bad taste.

Mitchell reached into the fridge and pulled out two sodas. “Come on in and sit down. I think we have to talk.”

The vampire sat in the corner of the couch, arranging the pillows to get comfortable. Anders sat next to him but not touching. He looked at the soda sitting on the coffee table as if it was something alien. He had no desire to touch it. He didn't know what to say to Mitchell, so he stayed uncharacteristically silent. His whole world was in upheaval. From his mother’s murder to Mitchell turning up on his doorstep. He felt like he should look around for Rod Serling because he had to be in the Twilight Zone. 

The Irishman took a sip of his soda and set it down. “You have to get the alcohol out of your system. I don't know if you are an alcoholic or not, but I'm pretty sure that if I wrung you out you'd drip as much alcohol as you would blood.” 

“Well, that's fucking disgusting. Do you have anything else encouraging you'd like to say, or are you done now?” Anders leaned away and frowned. 

Mitchell raked his fingers through his hair, betraying his discomfort with this line of conversation. “Look, you're not the only addict in this room. This is one addict talking to another. No bullshit allowed.”

“Yeah, well I don't kill anyone if I don't get my drink,”Anders shot back.

“Is that why you tried to punch me when I dumped your vodka in the sink? Don't kid yourself. You can't afford to and you sure can't kid me. If I wasn't faster than you I'd have a split lip. You're dangerous if someone gets in the way.” He looked sad. “It's part of being an addict; you will do anything...say anything to get your fix.”

“Did you?” Anders looked at him pointedly. 

“I'm the Prince of Lies,” Mitchell replied evenly. “That’s why you can't lie to me. I know them all.” His look intensified, making him seem dark and dangerous. “You're going to detox. You and me—we're going to get through this.”

Anders reached over and picked up the soda. He spun it between his palms, the old persona leaking out before he could stop it. “And if I don't want to detox?”

“It's not optional, mate.”

“So this really is an intervention?” Anders frowned and looked down at the can between his hands. 

“You can call it anything you want to call it.” Mitchell said softly. He shifted a little so that he could see Anders better. The need to touch him and kiss him was almost overwhelming. “I'm not talking about going cold turkey or whatever you call it down here. You're just going to start cutting back. No DTs, no shakes. Just drink less and eat some good food.”

Anders expression lightened, eyes twinkling. “And are you going to cook this 'good food'?”

The vampire burst out laughing. “Fuck no! I came to help you—not kill you. Dawn is going to do it...and Ty.”

“Ty knows about you?” the god frowned, his body tensing.

“Only that I'm an old friend who is going to help. Anything more will be up to you to tell him.”

“Dawn though...she knows about you and me?” He looked at his lap where his hands were digging into his knees.

“Yeah. She kinda does.” Mitchell shifted nervously. “She thought I stole your phone the first time she called. Then she called back and told me you almost died and I...well...I got kinda upset and she just seemed to know.”

Anders licked his lips nervously. “It probably doesn't help that I told her I wasn't gay.”

“You what?!”

“I was in hospital and kinda out of it. I remember saying that to her at some point.” He focused his attention straight ahead, not looking at the Irishman. 

“Well,” Mitchell ventured after thinking for a moment. “If you had to pick someone to say that to at least you picked someone on your side.”

Anders raked his fingers though his hair. “Yeah, it could've been Michelle and I'd be paying for it the rest of my life.”

“Who's Michelle?”

“My doctor. She's a goddess, Sjöfn to be exact. She's supposed to be the goddess of love, but she's more like the bitch goddess from hell.” He chuckled at Mitchell's reaction. 

“Welcome to my world. Seems in jolly old Asgard the gods fucked the goddesses in more than one way, so the goddesses aren't particularly in favor of us getting our full powers back. They tried to kill Axl before he became Odin and when that didn't work they now just harass the fuck out of us whenever they get the chance.”

Mitchell looked at him as something slowly dawned on him. “Your mother was a goddess, right?” Anders nodded. “Was she trying to kill Axl too?”

Anders stood up and went over to look into his fish tank. After a moment he stood up and looked at the vampire. “It was her idea. I told you my family was fucked.” He stood there, looking down, picking at the plaster that covered the IV stick in the back of his left hand. 

The Irishman rose and walked over to Anders. He slid his arms around the god and drew him close. There was no resistance as the shorter man leaned into the hug, letting strong arms surround him. Mitchell bent and nuzzled into soft blond hair, closing his eyes and breathing in the spice of his aftershave. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed the scent, or the feeling of having the blond in his arms.

Anders clung to the Irishman, a part of him still not certain that this was real. Mitchell's chest felt cool against his cheek. Until he'd found out about the vampire's condition he had wondered why the taller man was always chilly. Now it felt soothing. He nestled into the brunette, breathing in the scent of woodsy aftershave with a tang of tobacco. There was another scent, deeper and darker, the vampire's natural scent he supposed. It smelled a little like leafmold, earthy and cool. It reminded Anders of the shed he used to hide in when his father came home drunk. It was the scent of peace and safety. Anders took a deep appreciative breath and smiled. 

After long minutes the god straightened and heaved a sigh. “I'm sorry to drag you into this mess I call a life.”

Mitchell smiled and kissed his forehead. “Don't be. I wanted to come. Whatever it is, we'll deal.”

Anders looked up at the brunette, his face serious and his eyes sad. “I wasn't going to call you. I was going to just let it die.”

“I know,” Mitchell replied softly. “That’s why I didn't call either.”

“Did you want it to end...to just be a fling?” Anders looked very young and very unsure. “Would you have come if I hadn't gotten so...stupid?”

“I would have come.”

The statement so simple and so profound hung between them. 

After a long pause, Anders whispered, “I should have invited you.”

“Yes, you should have.” The answer was equally quiet. “But none of that matters now. I'm here.”

“Will you stay?” Blue eyes looked up into brown searching for an answer.

Long dark lashes shaded dark honey eyes that melted to chocolate at the edge of the iris. He met Anders gaze and smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

Looking into Anders’ clear blue eyes he crossed his fingers and hoped he looked a lot more confident than he felt. A century had not changed the shy boy who was not nearly as cool as he tried to pretend he was. 

A tremor ran through Anders' body as a wave of exhaustion washed over him and he suddenly felt as if his knees were going to buckle. He started to say something, but felt himself scooped up into impossibly strong arms. 

Mitchell felt the god start to slump and instinctively caught him, lifting him easily. He stood there for a moment unsure what to do, but the answer was obvious. “Where's the bedroom?”

The god wound his arms around Mitchell's neck. “Are you planning to have your way with me?” His tone was teasing but weariness paled his tan and dark circles were forming under his eyes. 

“Later, after we've both had some sleep. I think it would be like ravishing a corpse at the moment.”

Anders essayed a cheeky smile. “From experience I can tell you those corpses can be fucking awesome.”

Mitchell burst out laughing. “Thanks, now where is the bedroom?” He smiled, relieved that the blond still had some sass left in him. 

Anders waved vaguely to his left. “It's the room with the bed in it.” 

“Fucking brilliant,” the vampire muttered as he carried his burden down the hall, wrapping his arms around the brunette's shoulders like a damsel in distress. The humor in this wasn't lost on Mitchell, who smiled a little and held the man in his arms even tighter.

The door was open and he entered and bent to lay Anders on the bed. The god didn't release his neck and Mitchell found himself toppling onto the bed. He managed to catch himself enough not to knee the blond in the crotch, landing next to him face down in the pillows. The noise he made as he overbalanced was decidedly not masculine. 

Anders chuckled, twisting in the bed to watch the vampire extract himself from the pillows. “Stay,” he said quietly. “I don't want to be alone.”

Mitchell rolled over and slid his arm protectively over Anders' shoulder and hugged him lightly. “Shoes off, ok? 

The god nodded and let the vampire slide his shoes off, dropping them next to the bed. He kicked his own off, chucked the decorative pillows onto the floor and reached down to grab the silver and black afghan, pulling it up over them. Sliding his arm under the god's head he pulled him close, holding him and gently stroking his back until he felt him relax in sleep.

Mitchell laid there looking at the ceiling feeling a million years old. This had started out so simple; a pickup—a one-night stand. He wasn't looking for a relationship. He was crap at relationships. He always had been. He remembered going to the ceilis at the pub and sitting with his parents urging him to dance with the girls and him feeling as if he'd rather be anyplace else on earth. Much to his mother's chagrin he still hadn't married when he'd gone off to war. But how do you ask a girl to marry you when you can barely speak to one? Then Herrick came along and he learned to do other things to the girls, but still found he was shite at talking to them. 

He was better than George though. He chuckled softly at the thought. Almost anyone was better than George, but Nina didn't mind that he could barely form a coherent sentence when he met her. He looked over at Anders curled up on his shoulder. You never know what someone is going to find attractive. He pulled the afghan up around the god's shoulders, tucking him in. He closed his eyes, a little smile still tugging the corners of his mouth. You just never know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going more slowly than I'd hoped, but it is going. Thank you for hanging in there and thank you so much for your kudos and comments.


	5. I Will Sail Home To You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders is coming to terms with...well...being Anders. Mitchell is about to discover something wonderful. And Dawn is going to keep their little world spinning in it's orbit.

Who then can warm my soul?   
Who can quell my passion?  
Out of these dreams - a boat  
I will sail home to you.

The sound of the doorbell woke Mitchell. He looked over to find Anders still sleeping. Quietly, he rolled out of bed and padded out to the door. There was no one there, but there was a shopping bag sitting by the door. He opened the door and peered into the bag. To his surprise and delight there was a casserole dish at the bottom, something round wrapped in foil and at the top were two plastic bowls. He smiled as he picked it up. Apparently Dawn was taking the suggestion that Anders start eating properly to heart.

He set the bag on the kitchen counter and unpacked it. He lifted the lid on the casserole and found beef, pasta and what looked like baked beans. He sniffed appreciatively. Whatever dish this was, it smelled delicious. The round thing was homemade bread that smelled of herbs and the two bowls were salad mix and two cupcakes. She'd thought of everything. He put it in the fridge and then rang her on his mobile. When she didn't answer he left her a message thanking her for her kindness. 

He went back to the bedroom and slid in next to Anders, who murmured sleepily and turned to snuggle against the Irishman. “I wondered where you'd gone, but then I heard you in the kitchen. What were you doing?”

Mitchell stroked the god's shoulder, drawing lazy circles with his thumb. “Dawn left food for us. Some sort of casserole that smells delicious, homemade bread and she even thought of salad and dessert. She's pretty amazing.”

Anders smiled. “She is, isn't she? If I don't go bankrupt I need to give her a raise.”

Mitchell nuzzled his hair and chuckled. “You're not going to go bankrupt, and yeah, you do need to give her a raise.”

“Speaking of raises, I think I'm feeling one right now,” the god murmured as he placed a soft kiss on the Irishman's shoulder.

“I don't think we should have sex until you get this sorted out in your head,” he replied. He'd decided this on the plane ride, since he'd had nothing else to do but think. Rushing in was what caused all this confusion in the first place. 

“Get what sorted out?” Another soft kiss, followed by a flick of the tongue.

“This whole 'I don't want to be gay' thing you've got going on.” Mitchell said quietly. “You've got to be able to wrap your head around it without freaking out.”

Anders pulled back a little, his muscles tensing. “I'm so fucked up,” he whispered. “When I'm with you I don't have any doubts, but the moment we were apart I just couldn't deal with it.”

Anders drew a long shuddering breath and Mitchell kissed his temple. “You're not gay, you know, you egg—you're bi. There's a difference.” 

Another long breath and a nuzzle. “I think it just makes me weirder, like I don't fit in anyplace.”

The vampire chuckled. “Biology is what it is. I used to wonder what was wrong. I didn't understand why I fancied the ladies, but the occasional bloke as well. I used to beat myself up over it. Now we know, you're just born that way. If anyone wants to lay blame, they'd best point at your parents, at God, or at the ocean. No one understands this really. It's just the way things are.”

“Why does it make so much more sense when you say it?” The Kiwi's voice was muffled and so soft it wasn't much more than a whisper. He slid his arm around Mitchell, pulling him closer.

“Because you trust me.” Another kiss on the temple. “I'd die for you, you know.”

The hug got tighter. “I know. I saw you in action. I trust you, Mitchell.” He pressed his lips against the Irishman's shoulder. “You're the only one I do trust.”

The vampire slid his hand down Anders' arm to twine their fingers together. “Don't say that, but I'm glad you aren't afraid of me. I'd never hurt you.”

“I know.” Anders brought his hand up and kissed the back of it. “I feel safe with you. I wish there was a way to lock the whole bloody world out.” 

The god rolled over to lay atop his beautiful Irishman. He bent and kissed him lightly, feeling the scruff of beard against his face. Never had anything felt more right. 

“I'm sorry I'm such a prick,” he whispered sadly, nuzzling against Mitchell's cheek. 

The vampire slide strong arms around him and held him, feeling the beating of Anders' heart. “You're not a prick. Stop putting yourself down. It's okay to have doubts at first. I think if you ask anyone about their sexuality you'll find that everyone wonders if they are okay.”

“Am I okay?” There was a tease in his voice, but a hint of worry as well.

“Yeah, you silly bugger, you're okay. You're more than okay. I wouldn't sit on my arse on a plane for 26 hours for just anyone, you know.” Mitchell kissed him tenderly. Anders breath hitched in his throat and he returned the kiss. 

The god's tongue lightly traced the curve of Mitchell's lips, causing his breath to catch in his throat. 'You're going to make me forget my promise.”

“That’s my plan. You catch on real fast for a dead bloke.” Anders was grinning wickedly, his free hand sliding down Mitchell's side, teasing at the sensitive skin. 

The vampire pushed his hand downward until Anders could feel his erection. “So I'm a dead bloke...”

“Mmm, I'd say you've been resurrected.” He leaned in and captured the vampire's lips in a kiss that was deep and hot. Mitchell's strength roiled and he kissed Anders with a fierceness that was matched only in the heat of battle. The god kissed back, tongue sparring, fingers digging into hard muscles, demanding more. 

“I want to make sure you're okay with this,” the Irishman said trying to clear his head. It was spinning. He wanted Anders so much it hurt, but he didn't want to risk hurting him again.

“I'm holding your dick, so I think I'm okay,” came the muffled reply. 

He leaned back a little and looked up at Mitchell. “I was an arsehole. You reminded me that I was an arsehole. I'd like to stop being an arsehole now. When I was lying next to you I had the revelation that my family doesn't control who I am. I've let them judge me for too long. Just because I'm one of the lesser gods doesn't mean that I'm a piece of shit.”

“You're a good man Anders Johnson. We were great together in London. We're gonna be great together here.” The Irishman ran his fingers gently along the side of Anders' face, tracing his jaw line, lifting up his thumb to rest it in the dimple. “You're amazing. I'm just going to keep saying that until you start believing it.”

Anders looked up at him and blinked. “It may take awhile.” 

The brunette smiled slowly, his eyes the color of dark caramel. “I don't mind. It will give me more time to be with you like this.”

Mitchell reached up and claimed Anders' lips in a long hot kiss. He dug his fingers into the back of the god's scalp, crushing their lips together. The fires that had been smoldering burst into flame. The brunette's tongue scoured Anders' mouth, raking along his teeth, sending a bolt of pure desire rocketing down the god's body to his cock. He felt Anders arch against him, a long shuddering moan tearing from him as he thrust hard against Mitchell's own erection.

He didn't see Mitchell's eye flash to ebony and his fangs descend. The vampire willed it back and his eyes returned to normal, fangs retreating as he fought to regain control. He took a deep shuddering breath and searched within himself, too, desperate to find why he had shifted. Anders kissed him again, tongue laving over Mitchell's lips, seeking entry. The brunette trembled, holding his lips tight lest his fangs be revealed. He took slow deep breaths, holding the vampire at bay. 

Anders thrust his hips against him, kisses hot a wet as he licked Mitchell's lips again and then turned his attention to the vampire's neck. The black snicked back across his corneas for a moment and Mitchell let himself feel the waves of lust that washed over him. He could feel his heartbeat picking up, his breath coming faster. He blinked and the darkness in his eyes vanished to be replaced by an astonished look. Somehow he was as strongly turned on by the man kissing him as he was by taking blood. 

Sex was always good. Sex with blood was a whole new level of pleasure. It was amazing, rocking him to his core, but always ended with death and tears and self-hatred. Anders' kisses trailed down Mitchell's neck to that sweet spot where the blood is close to the surface. He licked and then sucked, pulling the blood up to form a bruise, marking the vampire as his. Mitchell nearly came as he felt the blood moving beneath the god's lips. He arched up moaning, begging for more. He was getting the high without the kill. 

He rolled, pinning Anders beneath him, lips and teeth working down Anders' neck to stop and suck an identical mark. The vampire's eyes remained golden, darkened only by the expanding pupils. His fangs remained hidden. He didn't need them. The taste of the god's skin was enough, he didn't need to break through. There was no hunger for blood, only for sweet release. 

Mitchell rolled off of Anders and nearly ripped his clothing off, hurling the sweat pants against the wall, boxer-briefs following. His own clothes were more of a struggle and he settled for yanking his skinny jeans down far enough so that they didn't restrict his movement. Anders was surprised by the assault on his clothing, but it only turned him on more and he helped the vampire yank his shirt over his head to bare his chest. Before he'd even laid down again, the god was kissing his chest, first licking and then sucking at a dusky pink nipple, bringing the fire raging back.

Anders straddled the Irishman, thrusting against him, the slide of their erections against one another drawing forth moans from both men. Mitchell reached down between them and captured both erections in his long fingers, massaging and pulling. The blond tucked his head down and froze for a moment shivering with the pleasure. When he looked up at the vampire his blue eyes were nearly obsidian with lust. He thrust into Mitchell's hand, desperate for release. 

Mitchell was with him, eyes shifting to black and back to dark chocolate as the waves of lust rolled over him. His head was thrown back, curls in disarray against the pillow, mouth open in a steady stream of curses in both his languages. His words were filthy, full of descriptions of lust and passion. They were the language of sex and pleasure and even if Anders didn't understand half of them, they needed no translation. 

Anders urged his partner on, his voice hoarse with lust. “Come for me, come for me.” He whispered it over and over as his hand joined Mitchell's to squeeze and twist, capturing the head of the Irishman's cock to drag the foreskin slickly over the head, the extra jolt of pleasure pushing him over the edge. As the hot fluid poured over the god's fingers he joined Mitchell, spattering burst after burst of his pleasure between them. 

They rode it out, both continuing to stroke, drawing out the tremors of orgasm. When the aftershocks subsided they collapsed together, hands trapped, bodies spent. Anders rested his head against Mitchell's chest hearing the beat of his heart, drawing comfort from it. The vampire slid his free arm around his partner and hugged him tightly, cherishing their embrace. He was content and didn't want to move, even after their cocks had sleepily retired. They shifted a little, entwining sticky fingers, reluctant to release one another. 

Mitchell lay still, enjoying Anders' weight on his chest. He was utterly amazed by what had just happened. In all his long life he had never before experienced anything like it. He'd never reached that peak of pleasure without the kill—without the hot fresh addictive blood coursing in him and over him. He had no explanation. Had they bonded and their separation and then reunion triggered it; was it because Anders was a god? There were no answers, only questions. It didn't matter. What mattered was that it happened. He pulled his partner even closer and bent to press gentle kisses into his soft hair. If he died now, he would be able to say that he had been to heaven.

Anders shifted under the pressure of Mitchell's embrace, smiling as he felt himself being kissed and loved. How could he have run from this? He moved his hand a little, feeling the glue of drying semen tugging at their joined fingers. There was no feeling of disgust, only a sense that this was right, to be sharing something so deeply personal without reservation. He nuzzled the soft hair on the Irishman's chest. Finding a nipple he licked it gently drawing forth a soft moan of pleasure. 

“You are amazing Anders. This was amazing. It was brilliant. You are my _ceann órga_...my golden one.” He trailed his fingers down the god's back, tracing the muscles beneath his tanned skin. 

The god heaved a sigh that ended with a purr. “My _álainn-due._ ”

Mitchell smiled. “So I'm still your beautiful blood sucker?”

“Mmm, let me think,” Anders said lazily. “Hmm, yes. Yes I believe you are.” He lay contentedly nude atop the vampire's long lean body. He was deliciously at peace with himself and the world. 

It was only when they started to chill that they admitted that they needed to unglue themselves and go take a shower. The Kiwi laughingly helped Mitchell shed his skinny jeans and they headed to the shower. They both got far cleaner than was necessary and the god was seeing how well his fancy shower gel was working as a lube. Mitchell groaned and thrust hard, the slipperiness of the gel in Anders' fist sending the heat shooting from his balls up the shaft of his cock like a bolt of lightening. He tried to pull away but that slick tight grip followed him. He finally had to simply turn his back and declare that food came first. Anders was teasing him unmercifully but he hadn't really eaten since before he left London, food on the plane being just too pricy to be an option.

He dried off quickly trying to stay out of reach, slipping on a pair of black sweatpants and a red T-shirt. Anders looked at him approvingly. “Red's your color.”

Mitchell smiled at the god who was standing completely naked with a cheeky grin on his face. “And blue is yours and if you don't put some clothes on it's what you are going to turn all over. I don't fancy a blue willy is going to be very sexy, God of Poetry.”

“Fuck you,” he said cheerfully pulling on a T-shirt that matched his eyes. 

“Later. Food first.” The vampire headed into the kitchen and pulled the casserole out of the refrigerator. He popped it into the microwave and managed to figure out how to program it. He then opened the freezer and dropped two ice cubes into the tumbler on the counter.

When Anders came out he found that there was a drink poured for him. It sat on the counter calling to him. For the first time, he looked at vodka and didn't want it. He was tired of having something run his life. He pushed the drink away from the edge, but didn't pick it up.

“Go ahead and drink it,” Mitchell said quietly as he filled two bowls with the salad mix.

“I don't want it.” 

“That's good, but your body does. It will take you a few days to dry out.” He peered into the refrigerator. “I hope you want vinegar and oil dressing because that's all you have.” 

He looked up and saw Anders holding the glass looking at with forlornly. “I'm such a fucking loser.”

“No, you've had a shit run of luck. So have I, but it's going to get better.” He smiled at the god. “I'm glad you don't want the drink. Just have a few sips if you really don't want it. You can have more later if you start feeling effects from cutting down.”

Anders frowned. “What kind of effects?” 

“Not the DTs, you haven't been pissed long enough, but you might find you have trouble sitting still. And you could feel shaky. It shouldn't be anything bad and it'll affect you less if you aren't still determined to drown yourself in vodka.” 

“How do you know all this?” Anders asked around the rim of the glass.

“Let's just say that this isn't my first trip around this block, mate.” He turned and popped the casserole into the microwave, peering at the panel trying to puzzle it out. The one at his flat had a simple dial but this one was all buttons and digital. 

Anders stepped around him and deftly punched in a mysterious code, setting the time and grinning at Mitchell, who made a face. “So I'm a digital bloke in an analog world. They didn't have microwaves when I was born.”

Anders laughed. “I'm not too sure they had electricity when you were born.”

It was Mitchell's turn to laugh. “You're right about that. Some homes only had lanterns and candles. We were very advanced and had gas light. My father was very progressive.” He looked proudly at the god who chuckled and slid his arms around the Irishman's shoulders.

“I can see that you're a very progressive bloke.” He kissed the tip of Mitchell's nose. “You're going to turn me into one too.” 

“So now you're okay with me being here?” the Irishman teased as he wound his arms around Anders' back. “You're sure you don't want me to flap my way back to England?”

“Don't remind me of what a dick I was,” Anders said petulantly. 

“But if I don't—who will? Mitchell looked down at Anders fondly. He was a tough little guy. He'd had to be. He gave no quarter and asked for none. That magnificent nose looked like it had been broken at least once. He imagined young Anders facing down bullies with the same courage as a terrier, ready to fight if provoked. 

A slight tremor ran though the blond's body. He slumped a little and Mitchell, keeping his arm around the god's back steered him to the table. “Sit, I'll bring supper over.” It was a testament to Anders' weariness that he took the chair and remained sitting while Mitchell set the table and served him. 

“I hate feeling like this,” he complained as he took a helping of Dawn's casserole.

“Glad to hear it. Don't try to drink vodka by the gallon again and you won't have to suffer though it and end up in hospital again.” The brunette helped himself to salad and poured dressing over it liberally. 

Anders moaned. “Hospitals are awful places. They do obscene things to you.” He looked up to see if Mitchell was listening. “They stick you full of needles and put tubes where they don't belong. They stuck one up my dick.”

“Yeah, they do that. Remember that the next time you get the urge to drink the whole bottle,” Mitchell replied quietly, concentrating on spearing a chunk of lettuce. He wasn't unsympathetic, he just wasn't going to baby an adult who brought his misery upon himself. 

Anders frowned, but refrained from whining about it. It was obvious that the Irishman wasn't going to be sympathetic. The casserole was delicious and he forgot about his travails as he ate. The cupcakes were one of Ty's recipes. Much as the god hated to admit it, his younger brother had a real flair for cooking. Funny how he'd always considered it gay, to the point of teasing his brother about it and even telling others that Ty was gay. Suddenly ashamed of himself, the cupcake turned to dust in his mouth and he put it back on the plate. 

Mitchell cleared the dishes and loaded the dishwasher. Anders let him, still feeling a little shaky. When he obviously wasn't going to finish the cupcake, the vampire shoved what was left of it into his mouth and closed his eyes for a moment as its chocolaty sweetness melted in his mouth.

“Your brother should be canonized, or at the very least have a statue raised to him,” he said around the cupcake.

Anders nodded. “Yeah, he's a saint and so am I,” he mumbled.

They spent the evening lounging on the sofa, munching on popcorn washed down with beer watching movies. Mitchell talked him into watching _Arsenic and Old Lace._ Anders surprised himself by thoroughly enjoying it, laughing at Cary Grant's bemusement of finding that his dear old aunties were serial killers. Mitchell pulled him in for a quick snog, delighted to hear the smaller man laugh. They started watching _Iron Man,_ but Anders proved to be less than iron and fell asleep with his head in the Irishman's lap. 

Mitchell let him sleep for awhile and then gently extricated himself and went in to prepare the bed. He returned, picked the god up as if he were a child and carried him to bed. He fussed a little as the vampire undressed him down to his shorts, but he didn't complain. He went into the bathroom and then back out to climb between the cool sheets and snuggled up to Anders who mumbled sleepily. The Irishman slid a protective arm around him and the two of them drifted into a dreamless sleep. 

 

* * * * * *

It was a beautiful Sunday morning, but the sun didn't penetrate Anders' bedroom. It was designed for the man who liked to sleep late. Mitchell would have preferred a window and waking to a stream of sunlight, but it wasn't like he had a choice and Anders did need the sleep. He looked over at the clock and found that it was past 9am. He wondered what that translated to in England, but gave it up as a bad job when his mind wasn't awake enough to do the calculation. He went to the bathroom and then out into the living room.

Seeing the paper had been delivered he brought it in and sat there reading headlines about cities he'd never heard of. It was weird, but it wasn’t the first time he'd moved to another country. At least the paper here was in English. He made a pot of coffee and sat down to read.

There was a tap at the door and he looked up to see Dawn standing here holding another shopping bag. He let her in, took the bag and set it on the kitchen counter.

“This is so nice of you, but you don't have to keep cooking for us. I can manage.”

She looked at him archly. “So you cook too?”

He ducked his head with a shy smile. “Not exactly, but I'm brilliant with a toaster and a microwave.”

She laughed, her green eyes sparkling. “I'll bet you are. If you stick around I'll have to show you how to do that thing in the middle where you make something so you can microwave it.”

“Annie says I'm hopeless, but I'm for it, if you are,” he said as he unpacked the bag, grinning at the contents.

“Who's Annie?”

“My flatmate back in Bristol. You'd like her, she's a lot like you, smart and sassy.” He looked at her while he was talking. Yes, she and Annie would get on famously. Maybe Annie could visit someday. That would be weird, but brilliant.

Dawn found some eggs in the fridge and slid them into a large bowl of warm water. All but one played submarine, proving they were still fresh enough to eat. Mitchell has seen him mum use the same trick for testing eggs. Dawn pitched the offending egg and then broke the rest into a bowl. Rummaging around she found a whisk and beat them into a fluff while Mitchell watched. She miraculously found a partially used package of minced peppers and onions in the freezer and dumped them into a hot skillet. When they were brown, she added the eggs and put the lid on. 

“How is he doing?” she asked as she cleaned the counter.

Mitchell combed his fingers through his hair. “I don't know what to compare it with, but he wasn't all that interested in drinking last night. I actually made him drink some so he wouldn't get shaky.”

She snorted. “You actually had to make him drink. That's a new one.”

Before Mitchell could reply there was a sound behind them and they turned to find Anders standing there in his boxer-briefs. He was frowning as he approached them.

“So were you two pillars of virtue just going to stand in my house talking about me like I'm some sort of project?”

Dawn was embarrassed, but the vampire turned to face him. “No, we were talking about you like you're a friend we care about. There's a difference.”

The god leered at him. “Why don't you come back to bed and show me again how much you care about me?”

Mitchell shot him a disgusted look. “Why don't you stop talking crap in front of the lady. Get dressed and come out and have some breakfast.”

Anders laughed and turned around to walk back toward the bedroom. 

“And try to find some manners while you're in there. Maybe you left them in a drawer somewhere.” Mitchell called after him. 

The reply was not muffled by the walls and Dawn looked up at Mitchell. “I should leave.”

“Yeah, you probably should. He's being a dick this morning. I'm sorry for this. You've been nothing but kind and you've gone way beyond...” He gestured at the omelet she'd slid off the fire. “He couldn't ask for a better friend. He just doesn't know it yet.”

She laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Be careful, Mitchell.” Her eyes bored into his and he saw how much she cared about Anders and how much he'd hurt her. 

“I will be, I promise. I'm going to take him out of here to get him someplace with people and laughter. Where would be a good spot to go?”

She smiled and shook her head. “You're a strange one, you are. Maybe you can handle him. God knows, no one else has apparently ever been able to do it. I'll text you some ideas. Have a lovely day.”

She gave him a peck on the cheek and then hurried out the door. Mitchell turned to find Anders lounging against the wall watching them. “That was so sweet I think I threw up in my mouth a little.”

Mitchell's eyes narrowed. “Then go wash your mouth out and come and get some breakfast.” He turned his back on the god and dropped two slices of bread in the toaster. 

He plated the omelet, framed it with toast slices and set it on the table. On the second trip he brought glasses of orange juice. He set two of them in front of Anders, who looked at them and then at him with a quizzical eye. 

Mitchell picked up the smaller one and handed it to him. “Drink up, maybe this will take the edge off of your tongue.”

Anders cocked his head. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

“Yeah, I'm sure. Right now I wouldn't put my cock anywhere near your mouth, it's too likely to get bitten off. Are you always this shitty when you wake up?” 

The god took the orange juice and tossed it back, then did a classic cartoon take of eyes widening and freezing in place for a moment. Mitchell grinned and then started to laugh. “Serves you right. Now that you've had your ‘medicine’ how about some breakfast?” 

“Was there any orange juice in that?” Anders managed to wheeze. He'd just found out there was an amazing difference between expecting booze and expecting orange juice. “It tasted like you made it with a real screwdriver.”

“I did. I found some cheap vodka under the sink so I used that.” Mitchell was smiling, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You're being evil this morning, so I thought I'd join in.” 

Anders leaned back, his expression calculating. “So what do I get if I'm nice?”

“I guess we'll have to see later...after you've been nice,” the Irishman said around a bite of toast. “Now eat your breakfast like a good boy because we're going to the beach.”

“Who says?”

“What about you 'being nice'?” 

“Shit!”


	6. On Your Shore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its been a hard road but a trip to the beach smooths things out. Its a day to just relax, be happy and make love.

Strange how my heart beats  
To find myself upon your shore.  
Strange how I still feel,  
My loss of comfort gone before.

Anders had negated all of Dawn's suggestions as being too crowded. He turned the car west and headed for the black sand beach he'd discovered years ago as teen. It was small, out of the way and not likely to be crowded with tourists enjoying the particularly warm spring day. He surprised Mitchell by putting on some good jazz and just enjoying the drive. Inspired, the vampire did likewise.

Muriwai Beach was a long strip of black volcanic sand unlike anything Mitchell had ever seen before. He hung out of the car flipping his sunglasses on and off as he took in the sight of the contrast between the sand and the water. It was amazing. 

Anders eventually pulled off onto a smaller road that became a path that ended in a small parking area within walking distance of the beach. When they got out Mitchell saw that they were the only people in sight. He was surprised and pleased when the god took his hand and led him down to the sand. 

“I don't come here as often as I used to. It was my place to get away when everything got to be too much.” He looked out over the water and then back at the tall man standing next to him. “I've never brought anyone else here, but I thought you might like it.”

Mitchell smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners of his sunglasses. “Thank you for sharing it with me. It's beautiful.”

Anders bent and scooped up a handful of the fine grey-black sand and held it out to the vampire. He let it trickle between his fingers into Mitchell's hand, watching the grains glint in the sunlight. “When I was a kid and found out we had black sand I wanted to come and see it, but I had to wait until I could drive. Now that I can drive I never come anymore.”

The Irishman reached out and put a bit of the sand he was holding into Anders' pocket. Before he could protest, he drew the Kiwi into a gentle kiss. “Now that you have some of the beach to take with you, you'll have to come back to return it.”

“Well this is certainly an inducement,” the god said, his eyes smiling as he licked his lips. “But I think I need to try that once more just to be sure.”

The day passed slowly and sweetly. Anders left his snarkiness at home and let himself relax. They walked hand-in-hand along the beach with the god laughing as Mitchell found an unbroken shell, carefully washed it and put it in his pocket. The vampire greeted the beach and the ocean with the enthusiasm and joy of a child. He even talked Anders into taking off his shoes and going wading in the still-chilly water. 

They bought chili hotdogs at a vendor and sat on the beach on a blanket Anders mysteriously pulled out of the boot. Together they watched the sun set while trying to keep hotdog toppings off their front and drinking a beer. Mitchell threw the last of his bun to the waiting gulls and then drew the god to him, holding him tight while he nuzzled soft kisses into his neck and cheek. 

They lay like that, kissing, cuddling and content. “I missed you,” Mitchell whispered into Anders ear as he nibbled the soft lobe. 

The god curved his neck, giving the vampire full access to his ear. Little shivers of pleasure chased one another across his skin. “I missed you, too. I don't know why I didn't call. Every time I thought about it I panicked and made myself think of something else. It was stupid.”

Mitchell trailed the tip of his tongue down the blond's neck to the base. He sucked gently, letting his teeth scrape delicate skin. There was no flare of hunger. Nothing except the desire to make love to the god until both their bodies broke with the pleasure of it. 

“You weren't stupid. It's a big adjustment and it takes time. Some blokes never make it and hide from what they want all their lives.” Another kiss. “Most don't know right away.”

“Ahh...that feels...nice,” the Kiwi sighed. “Did you know?”

Mitchell chuckled and pulled away for a moment to kiss Anders tenderly on the lips. “No. I didn't. Sometimes this is still day-by-day for me, but that doesn't make it less real.”

Anders didn't want to think about it, he just wanted to feel like he was feeling right now. “Let's just let it happen. I'm a god and I don't have to ask anyone's permission for anything.” He captured the vampire's lips in a kiss filled with longing and promise.

Mitchell's breath hitched. Funny how he always remembered to breathe when he was making love. The kiss went straight to the tip of his cock. He hissed with pleasure and arched forward, grinding his erection against Anders' leg. The god moved his hand down and palmed the hard length, sliding his hand over the denim, both teasing and promising. The vampire pressed up again, begging with soft mewling sounds, interspersed with panting. He was getting turned on past the point of stopping. 

Looking quickly around and seeing that they were alone on the beach, Anders quickly unfastened the jeans and pulled down the zipper. It was the work of a moment to pull the Irishman's manhood out, exposing him to the cool breeze from the ocean. Mitchell whimpered, begging without words, his eyes nearly vamp black, his head thrown back, hair in ribbons across the blanket. 

_Jesus, he's beautiful,_ Anders thought, before he bent and captured Mitchell between his lips, sliding easily down his length. There was no teasing, no playing. He had turned his lover on past the point of bearing and it was his duty and his pleasure to do something about that. He sucked hard and fast, using his hand to work the length that he couldn't comfortably take. The Irishman's cock was rock hard and throbbing. The god could feel the pulse in the veins that ran along the shaft. He knew his partner was close and shifted to twisting his hand with the strokes and sucking at the head when he lifted up. It only took a few minutes of that before Mitchell arched hard, his hips lifting high as he emptied into Anders' mouth. The god swallowed and resumed sucking and squeezing, milking out the last of the aftershocks. 

As the pleasure slowly subsided into sensitivity, Mitchell relaxed and pulled Anders from him, drawing him up for a slick kiss that sobbed softly as the Irishman fought for more breath. “Thank you,” he whispered raggedly holding the god in a tight embrace. “That was amazing.”

The blond wiggled a little to loosen the embrace. “I should hope so. Not everyone gets a blowjob from a god.”

“Your turn in a minute,” he whispered.

Anders kissed the tip of his nose. “Nope. That was for you. My gift. I'll get my turn later.” He laughed as he was drawn down to another long kiss. This had turned into the perfect day.

The drive home was lazy, even getting caught in traffic didn't bother Anders the way it usually did. It just gave him longer to hold Mitchell's hand and listen to sappy songs on the radio.

In the shower Mitchell retuned the favor on the beach giving Anders a slow steamy blowjob while the water rained down on them. It turned him on so much that he came without ever touching himself, surprising and delighting them both.

Later, Mitchell lay in bed, letting his refractory period reset. He watched Anders dry off, marveling at how perfectly the smaller man was built. Where he was tall and lanky, the god was compact and in perfect proportion. He still moved like a martial artist with grace and contained power. The Irishman watched the play of muscles in his back as he slid the towel across his shoulders. His appreciation was noted and he received a smile and a bit of a show. 

Laughing, Mitchell rolled over on his side and propped his head up so that he could watch more comfortably. His curls trailed over the fist holding up his head and Anders thought that someone should paint him. Wouldn't that be a fine thing to put on the wall...Mitchell wearing nothing but a smile and a sultry look. He giggled and the Irishman looked at him.

“What's so funny?” 

“I was just thinking about my oldest brother's reaction to you lounging on my bed looking like an artist's model. I don't know why I worried about him finding out. Right now telling Mike seems like the ideal way to make my day.”

“How about his?” The inquiry was casual, but meeting family was one of the things that truly worried the vampire. _Hi, I'd like you to meet my boyfriend. By the way he likes his snacks to be living and full of blood._ Yeah, that would be a conversation starter all right.

“Well, he wouldn't want to admit that he's a homophobe, but he's pretty much the type that thinks it’s just fine in someone else's family. He's a carpenter and right now he's running a bar. If you look up 'macho' in the dictionary you'll find Mike's picture.” Anders propped a foot on the bed to dry and nearly cost Mitchell his train of thought. 

“You know,” the vampire observed, “for someone who was trying to drink himself to death rather than be gay, you are pretty damn comfortable with nearly shoving your dick in my face.”

Anders chuckled. He sat on the edge of the bed so he could look at the Irishman. “I look back and have no idea what the fuck I was running from. It seemed the most important thing in the world while I was doing it, and now I can't fucking believe I was so goddam stupid.”

Mitchell patted his knee. “Well, we all cockup now and again.” He grinned at his inadvertent pun. “You should have seen me when I realized that I fancied Danny O'Neil more than I did his sister. I was a wreck for weeks.”

The god traced a vein in the vampire's forearm. “So how did you get over it?”

“I don't know that I ever really did. An Irish Catholic upbringing isn't something you just forget. After I got Danny in the hayloft I was sure lightning was going to strike me and after I had his sister up there the next Sunday I kept expecting the earth to open up and drop me straight into Hell.

“It still bothers me sometimes, but I have so much bigger sins on my soul that I can't say that it's more than a passing breeze these days. When I go to Hell it won't be for liking the cock.”

Anders shut his eyes for a second. He didn't want to think about Mitchell's sins. He had no details and needed none. If ever there was a fucked up pair it was the two of them. 

Mitchell reached up and laid his hand on the god's shoulder. His golden eyes darkened as he frowned slightly. “Please don't think about it. I'm sorry I brought it up. I'm dredging up the past. It's a habit of mine.”

The Kiwi gave a deep sigh and then a slight smile. “It's not you—it's me.”

The Irishman shook his head. “No, it's not. Don't go there tonight. We've had a wonderful day. Let's leave the philosophy and recriminations for another time. Deal?”

Anders leaned over and kissed him gently. “Deal.”

The blond walked over to the dresser and lit the three-wick candle. He'd never appreciated candlelight or the vanilla scent that rose in a sweet cloud from the tiny flames. Romance wasn't something he cared about. Getting off was the only thing that mattered. Getting his partner off mattered only because of his pride. But this was different. The Irishman had brought his own way of making love and Anders found that he very much liked it. 

When he neared the bed, Mitchell reached up and pulled him down, wrapping his arms around Anders and pulling him close. 

Mitchell's tongue flicked out and traced the outline of the god's lips. Anders responded by meeting the caress and then delving into the Irishman's mouth teasing lightly. The kiss intensified, both of them leaning into it, enjoying the sensation of the kiss, letting the heat build slowly. Scruff scratched against scruff, the sensation distinctly male and that was okay. No lightning bolts, no fiery pits, only pleasure.

The god pulled back a little to capture Mitchell's lower lip between his teeth. He sucked on it and then flicked it with his tongue, pleased at the response he was getting. Letting go, he shifted his attention to the Irishman's jaw line, nibbling and nipping his way up to the tempting earlobe. The groan that followed his breathing hotly into the vampire's ear told him he was on the right track. He traced the shell with the tip of his tongue whispering how much he wanted him—what he wanted to do and how he wanted Mitchell to react. The response was his partner arching back with a sob replying with his own whispered promises. 

The vampire tried to roll, but Anders pinned him, telling him not to move...to just feel...

He kissed and licked his way down Mitchell's neck, stopping to nuzzle the hollow of his throat where the vampire's chest hair started with a soft sweep of dark hair that always peeked out from his collar. He buried his face against the hair, breathing Mitchell's natural musk. The scent turned him on so much that he had to stop for a moment and calm a little. It was heady, with a mix of skin and hair and something wilder, something dangerous. If he could bottle it he could make a fortune. He nuzzled for a moment more and then slid his attention to the Irishman's nipples.

They were oases of gold and pink, dusky coins in the thick dark hair that surrounded them. They lay in nearly perfect circles of bare skin begging for attention. The god licked first and then sucked gently, capturing the hardening nub between his teeth to flick it with the tip of his tongue. The quick intake of breath told him that his attentions were welcome. He shifted to the other one, his fingers replacing his tongue as he moved back across the expanse of ebony hair. Every sensation was different than being with a woman and he found it almost overwhelming in its intensity. 

Mitchell's hands carded through the Kiwi's blond hair and slid over his shoulders taking a firm grip and attempting to gently turn him over. He steadied himself and shook his head. 

“Not moving,” he murmured. “I like it here just fine.”

Mitchell gave a protesting little groan. “But I want to...” He lost his train of thought as the god captured his nipple between his incisors and flicked it rapidly with his tongue.

“Uh uh,” he flicked again. Raising his head he grinned wickedly. “I want dessert and you're it.”

“You're making me fucking crazy with that,” the vampire replied.

“Is that a protest?” He bent down and took as much of the surrounding area into his mouth as he could and sucked hard, his tongue dancing across the taut skin. The resulting moan was pure music; it started high and ended low, trailing softly across all the scale. Mitchell thrust upward, his weeping cock sliding across Anders' belly, desperate for release. Smiling, the god kissed the tormented nipple and slid his mouth downward. 

Mitchell's chest hair narrowed from the expanse across his chest to a thin strip that flowed down to flare out and form a pool around his navel. It was a source of amusement for his oldest brother when he was a teen and later a source of fascination for various lovers. 

Anders’ nibbles traced that line, with forays to kiss the ridge of his lower ribs as they thrust up and down with his breathing. It tickled and Mitchell quaked with the giggles. He obeyed the god though and lay as still as he could, letting the blond have his way with him. The belly nibbles were harder to deal with until the god changed to licking. That made the Irishman forget about laughing.

Following the treasure trail down, Anders nuzzled Mitchell's erection. It was up thick and solid, foreskin rolled back readying it for action. Always a fan of oral sex with the ladies, he'd found that he enjoyed it with the Irishman as well. The god nuzzled and nibbled his way up the shaft and took the sensitive head in his mouth. He sucked gently and then harder. The vampire's fingers ruffled his hair, encouraging him without pressure. A soft “Please...” drifted down and he took pity on his lover and engulfed him fully.

He relaxed his throat and let it slide down as far as he was able, taking up the slack with his hand. It felt wonderful, both giving and receiving. It was empowering for them, both taking control and surrendering it. 

When he could stand it no longer, Mitchell reached down and pulled Anders off of him. He quickly twisted so that his head was at the foot of the bed. Sliding his arm around Anders' hips the Irishman pulled him around so that he had access to the god's cock. Cooperating quickly, Anders slid around so that he could be reached, taking his weight partly on his side. Enthusiastically, he shifted until he could once again capture the Irishman's cock between his lips. He groaned softly as he felt a slick cool tongue slide the length of his own erection. 

Curled together like Yin and Yang against the silver sheets, they worked to give each other as much pleasure as possible. It wasn't the easiest position to get into or to coordinate, but the joy of giving and receiving at the same time made it worth it. Strong hands gripped muscular glutes, pulling and pushing as hard cocks moved easily in and out of eager mouths. 

Anders was stunned by how turned on he was. He'd found sucking Mitchell a lot more fun than he'd anticipated, but this was killer. He couldn't get enough of it, or get it deep enough in his mouth to satisfy the sheer wave of lust that rolled over him. He groaned and sucked as hard as he could, unable to deep throat from his position but damned sure trying. It was filthy and erotic, making him feel like the star of his own porn film. He thrust his hips forward begging for more from his partner and was rewarded by deeper suction and a finger that hooked into the sensitive pucker between his cheeks, teasing him. 

Mitchell was having to do math problems in his head for a few moments after he started playing with the god's ass. The reaction was so enthusiastic that he nearly lost it. He felt the vamp rolling up to turn his eyes to ebony and quashed it. Keeping that in check worked better than math. He had no idea why this was happening, but he was too busy to analyze it. He wanted this to last a little longer, it was too good to end in a quick orgasm. Sex this hot needed to last until they were both begging. He didn't have any lube, so he made no attempt to enter, instead just massaged and stroked the muscular circle under his finger. He felt Anders shift, trying to return the favor, but his angle was wrong and he couldn't manage. The Irishman didn't object to having his testicles being rolled slowly and tugged gently as the Kiwi played with what he could reach. 

In spite of the math, sex this intense couldn't last and it was only minutes before Anders thrust deeply and froze with shocks of pleasure coursing like lightning bolts from his ass through his cock. Mitchell was ready for his partner's orgasm and swallowed hard, sucking and moving his head to drive the god even higher. When Anders' erection flagged and slid from between his lips Mitchell moaned, reluctant to let it go. A moment later he was moaning again but not from regret. Now that he didn't have his own orgasm to distract him, the golden god was paying very close attention to the hard cock in his mouth and the soft delicate sack in his hand. 

He twisted and forced himself more upright, adjusting the angle and taking more of Mitchell's cock. He was still tingling from his own orgasm and wanted to bring the Irishman off as strongly as he'd come. He slid his hands until each one held a cheek and then pulled them in different directions, indirectly stimulating Mitchell's anus and his prostate as his muscles instinctively clenched. It was different than the brunette ever felt and he came almost immediately, arching upward as jolt after jolt of pleasure racked along the length of his cock. Anders choked and then swallowed, riding out the rest of his partner’s orgasm and sucking hard to coax more and more from him. Only when Mitchell fell back limp did the god release him and take a deep breath before planting a loving kiss on the shining head and scooting upward on the bed.

The Irishman drew him in for a long, slick, powerful kiss, their tongues tasting of themselves and each other. Their lips and mouths were slick, making the kiss filthier, more erotic. Even though both were satisfied they had no urge to stop kissing. Mitchell licked the god's lips and chin only to have the caress returned, with Anders capturing his lower lip and sucking on it for a long moment. The Irishman laughed and hugged his god to his chest. If ever he would worship he knew at whose altar he would kneel. 

The kiss went on and on for an eternity. By the time it broke they were both completely out of breath. Anders was grinning and Mitchell had that goofy smile that meant he was too happy to form a coherent sentence. They just held each other, arms entwined, cheeks pressed together, laughter ringing in their ears. 

“I don't think it gets better than this,” Anders finally managed to whisper, between kisses.

“I don't think it does either. I think if it did we would just implode,” Mitchell agreed.

'Mmm and leave a squicky mess for my brothers to clean up.” He sucked a bruise onto the Irishman's neck so hard that it stung.

“Hey, stop that! I'm not going to blow up so you can have the satisfaction of harassing your brothers.” He pushed Anders back and nipped him sharply at the base of his throat.

“Watch it, Drac,” came the retort. “I'm not a midnight snack.” He rubbed the bitten skin gingerly. 

Mitchell flipped him easily and landed on top, pinning the god's hands over his head. “Drac, is it?” 

“Would you prefer Vlad, or maybe Lestat?” Anders teased.

“Anything but Edward Cullen. For that I really would have to bite you.”

The god snorted. “You do a lot of things, but sparkle isn't one of them, thank god. If you start I may have to stake you.”

“If I start to sparkle—I'll let you.” 

Mitchell nuzzled into the crook in Anders' neck, giving him little nibbles. It was so peaceful to be able to do this like a normal person and not have blood lust come roaring through his brain. The god smelled wonderful, his natural scent was a little musky with a hint of spice. He didn't smell like blood...he smelled like love.

The god closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation. He knew he didn't have to be afraid of Mitchell for any reason. And he didn't have to be afraid of other things with the Irishman there either. He'd been horribly embarrassed by his nightmare in London, but had found only comfort and strong arms to hold him in the night. He had a protector now who was badder than all the bogeymen put together. He smiled to himself and pressed a kiss into the vampire's hair. 

“I could lay like this all night.”

Mitchell chuckled. “Me too, but I'm going to get heavy. How about this instead?” He rolled off and pulled Anders to him so that the blond was pressed up against him with his head pillowed on the vampire's arm. With his other hand he pulled up the covers that had been thrown to one side. The candle was still burning but it's light was dim and romantic. At some point one of them would rouse enough to go over and blow it out. But not now. Now was the time to just cuddle and be at peace with themselves and the world.


	7. I Cannot Hold You Long Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are settling down a little which is good because Anders has a business to rebuild. Mitchell has thinking to do and decisions to make, or rather decisions to avoid.

_Cool waves wash over_  
And drift away with dreams of youth  
So time is stolen  
I cannot hold you long enough. 

The alarm went off far too early. Anders pulled a pillow over his head and groaned. “Turn it the fuck off!” 

“Rise and shine, or whatever they do down here.” Mitchell attempted to pull the pillow away, but Anders fended him off with a couple of wild swings. The Irishman was disgustingly cheerful in the morning and the god thought that if he kept it up he might just have come to the end of his long lifespan.

“Okay, lay there and moan. See if I care.” Mitchell slid out of bed and wandered into the bathroom scratching his head, leaving his curls in an even wilder disarray. 

He finished, washed his hands and went into the kitchen in quest of food. He checked the porch to see if Dawn had left them a care package. She hadn't, so he was on his own. Digging around in a cabinet he unearthed a half a box of Weetabix and a bag with three bagels. He wasn't crazy about the cereal, but at least he recognized it. Besides, with enough sugar on it, he could eat anything. He examined the bagels and found them stale but not green. Which is always a plus. A check on the milk settled the matter. Bagels it was...unless they really wanted to chew the milk. He put a bagel in the toaster and put coffee on to perk. There was still no sign of Anders. It was going to be a long day.

The bagel and coffee made the god at least turn over and remove the pillow from his head. Mitchell sat down and offered him the coffee if he sat up. Groaning theatrically, he heaved upright and clutched the coffee cup as if it were a life raft. 

The Irishman watched him for a moment. “Are you okay?”

“I feel a little shaky for some reason. It must be all the good sex,” He leered in a sad attempt to be cheerful. 

Mitchell shook his head. “It's more likely that it's the fact that you didn't have a drink before you went to sleep. Want me to get you something to put in the coffee?”

Anders thought about it and then took the bagel and bit into it. “Fuck it!” he said, chewing. “I want to drink because I want to and when I want to. Screw this needing a drink shit. I'm a god. I control things.”

The vampire raised one eyebrow. “So, yes or no?”

“No,” he said shaking his head. “Make that a _fuck no!_ I'm done with this shit. I'll live and the next drink I take will be because I want it.”

He swallowed and looked up at the brunette. “Why did you set the bloody alarm anyway?”

“So you could go to work. You know that whole 'pay the bills thing' you were so worried about.” Mitchell swiped a bite of Anders' bagel.

A godly lower lip stuck out. “I could use another day off. I'm still shaky.”

“You could use a lot of things...none of which you are going to get. It's time to get back into the real world and make some money.” Mitchell looked at him archly. “I seem to remember you telling me that Bragi could talk anyone into anything.”

“Well, not exactly. It has to be something they'd want to do in the first place, but yeah, he can sort of rig the wheel.”

Mitchell got up and headed out of the bedroom. “I suggest you get busy rigging the wheel because we are seriously out of groceries.”

Anders pulled a face and threw his last bite of bagel at the Irishman who was vanishing out the door. Mitchell laughed all the way to the kitchen. He poured himself a cup of coffee and scraped some butter across the cold bagel. Once he got Anders out the door it was going to be time to think about getting himself a job. His thoughts were derailed by Anders walking out into the living room.

The grey suit fit him perfectly, accenting his shoulders, the cut of the jacket drawing attention to his finely honed rear, the slacks fitting just right, hinting but not showing. The Irishman just stood there, jaw slack, eyes somewhat glazed. Anders looked up and saw him. He thought he looked good. Now he knew it. Smiling he strode over and slid his arms around Mitchell's neck. 

“So do I look okay, babe?” His blue eyes were twinkling with mischief.

“Uh. Yeah. Yeah you do.” Those pink perfectly drawn lips were far too tempting and Mitchell closed the distance between them with a soft kiss that heated quickly. Damn, this man could get him going in a heartbeat. 

Their tongues met and they both allowed themselves the pleasure of the kiss for a few moments before pulling away. It wouldn't look good for Anders to show up at work with his lips swollen from kisses and his face reddened from stubble and that wasn’t the ideal look for job hunting either. 

Anders picked up his keys and his briefcase. “Walk me to the office so you know where it is. It's only a couple of blocks.”

The office was closer than Mitchell had anticipated and he was glad to see Dawn again. She was sitting at her desk with a handsome brunette leaning on the edge of it. They both looked up when Anders and Mitchell entered.

Dawn made the introductions and Mitchell smiled and shook hands with Ty, who seemed bemused by the Irishman's gloves. He was going to explain, but Anders cut him off. 

“Well, Ty, how are all things cold and dreary?”

Ty frowned at the reference. “Just fine. So did you think you would finally show up at work and lose a few more clients?”

“Ah, little brother, little do you know the ways of JPR.” He smiled condescendingly at Ty. “Now if you will forgive us, we have clients to serve and worlds to conquer.”

Dawn was taking a sip of coffee and coughed in surprise. His brother just gave Anders a dirty look and rolled his eyes. He looked over at Mitchell, giving him a nod.

“Nice to have met a friend of Anders. I didn't think he had any.” He stopped at the door. “I'll see you tonight, Dawn.”

She smiled and called after him thanking him for the coffee. Anders looked as if he had a remark brewing, but he took a look at both Mitchell and Dawn and decided against it. 

“And that,” he said theatrically, “was my little brother.”

Dawn gave him a long suffering look. “Don't worry, I kept your secret.”

Mitchell smiled at her. “Thanks, Dawn.”

Not to be outdone, Anders nodded. “Yeah, thanks.” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “I...” He looked uncomfortable and then ducked into his office leaving his sentence unfinished.

The vampire followed him. “What's the matter with you?”

The god strode over and sat at his desk, expensive cowhide chair rolling easily as he turned to face Mitchell. “He was the one who found me. Not one of my proudest moments.”

“So it's his fault you drank until you puked and passed out.” Mitchell turned and faced the blond. “He probably saved your life and you insult him. Nice. I can hardly wait to see what you have in store for me.” He picked up a pen from the table and rotated it between his fingers. “Maybe I should just stake myself now and avoid the pain.”

The Kiwi frowned. “I thought it only worked with wood. That's plastic. My good ones keep getting nicked so the real wood pens are in my desk.” He pulled open a drawer and took one out, tossing it on the desk. “This one is bird's eye maple. Go out in style.”

“You're a real shit, you know that?” The vampire's tone was amused but had an edge to it. There was definitely a limit to the amount of crap he was willing to hear Anders say.

The god's eyes widened, impossibly blue and full of innocence. “I'm just trying to get back into the swing of things.”

Mitchell shook his head and chuckled. “Well, put your claws away and start making phone calls. We seriously need some groceries and Dawn needs that raise.”

Twirling the pen between his fingers, Anders tipped the chair back and looked at Mitchell. He was gorgeous just standing there rumpled and looking unbearably sexy. 

“And what do you need?” His voice wasn't quite Bragi, but the question purred from his lips.

The vampire swung the door shut and walked over to Anders. He leaned forward, holding the chair tipped back. The kiss was searing, both of them feeling the jolt from the contact, tongues snaking out, sliding hot and wet and promising.

“I want to take that expensive suit off of you one piece at a time and make you beg me to take you.” His Irish accent was as strong as his lust. 

Anders' breath hitched and he swallowed, his pants suddenly too tight. “I need you now.”

Mitchell stood up and scraped his curls back. Shaking his head, he smiled wickedly. “Later. Think about it all day. Make those calls and make them want you as much as I do.”

The god leaned further back in the chair, a calculating smile on his face. He pulled his house keys out of his pocket and tossed them to Mitchell. “So, this is quid pro quo?”

The vampire juggled the keys for a moment and tucked them into his pocket. The smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You could say that.”

Anders turned the chair and looked at the brunette archly. “We'll have to see if you are up to your end of the bargain.”

Chuckling, Mitchell spun on his heel and sauntered out the door.

When he walked past her, Dawn gave him a little smile, tactfully ignoring his kiss swollen lips. Maybe this was what Anders needed. She hoped so, she really didn't want to have to find another job in this economy.

Mitchell dawdled on the way back to the condo, investigating the shops as best he could by peering into the windows. He was acutely aware of the minute amount of cash in his wallet and resolved to start job hunting the minute he got in the door. He didn't want Anders to support him. He needed to pull his own weight. There had to be a hospital somewhere that needed a cleaner.

* * * * * 

Anders had watched Mitchell leave, admiring his fine ass in those skinny jeans. It was funny how attracted he was to that scruffy Irishman. He tried picturing him in a tailored suit, but the image didn't fit. The cascade of unruly curls and the fingerless gloves always interfered. The Brooks Brothers look wasn't him and definitely neither was Armani. 

The god couldn't imagine Mitchell in anything but a stretched out t-shirt or those horrid plaids he loved so dearly. And then there were the black skinny jeans that clung to his lanky frame like a denim skin, defining all of his best features...well, from the neck down anyway. Unlike Anders, he simply was. He didn't need an expensive suit, or any of the trappings of fashion that partly defined the god. His thoughts were interrupted by Dawn bringing in a file folder.

She set it on the desk and looked at him coolly. “I did some work while you were away, but I thought they'd decided to go with Carter and Sons. Apparently they aren't happy with their current PR firm and want to know what JPR can offer.”

Anders tilted his chair back and studied her. Sensible everything; hair, clothes, shoes and attitude. But behind that was an intelligence and a loyalty he'd been underestimating. 

“Dawnsie, you never fail to surprise me...in a good way.”

He picked up the folder and flipped it open, his brows rising as he read the amount of work that she'd done. It was impressive and he face showed it. When he looked up again she was standing there looking as if she hoped he would approve. 

He smiled warmly, the corners of his eyes crinkling, dimples shading deeply. “This is almost too good to be true. I'd say I can't believe all the work you did, but I can. Now get out of here and take a two hour lunch with that boyfriend of yours before I get all soppy and make myself sick.”

She left the office with a little bounce in her step and the restaurant she and Ty would lunch at already in mind. It was going to be a good day at JPR.

* * * * * * 

Anders hung up the phone and sat there for a few minutes just staring into space. He and Bragi had secured the account, he was sure of it. Of course there would be drinks and handshakes and promises and contracts, but right now he just wanted to bask in the glow. 

He'd become a PR man partly because of Bragi, but partly because it was something he had an aptitude for. Bragi could only fool part of the people, part of the time. Getting a client didn't mean that god could influence the buying public. The ad campaigns were what sold the product and he has to admit that he was good at making people pay attention to what he put on their tellys or on the radio. 

He went over to Dawn's desk and logged onto her computer. He spent the next hour researching the company and had half a legal pad of sketches and notes by the time Ty opened the door for her. If she was surprised to see him at her computer, she gave no sign.

“Did you two have a good lunch?” he inquired archly, wiggling his eyebrow. “Come back all squicky from sex?”

Ty's head dropped as he resisted the urged to reach out and pound his older brother's head on the desk. Dawn put on her practiced look of disdain. “Get out of my chair, Anders.”

He hopped up grinning. “Oh course, your ladyship. I wouldn't want to sully it with my sweaty ass since I've been working while you two were out partying.”

“You told me to take two hours, remember?” She put her purse away and gave Ty a kiss on the cheek, totally ignoring her boss. “And it's good to know that you finally accomplished something besides pouring a drink.”

Anders' eyes went wide in what he hoped looked like surprise. “I'm hurt by that remark, Dawn. Really hurt. Here I am doing my best to keep this company afloat so you will have a job and you mock me. I'm wounded, Dawn.”

Ty snorted, “If you keep that up, you really will be wounded. What a dick.”

“At least I'm a dick with a real job,” he fired back with a smile. “How's that messenger thing working out for you?” 

Dawn rolled her eyes and steered Ty toward the door. “Ignore him, he's just being...himself.” She rose up and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “I will see you tonight.”

Ty looked back to see Anders blowing him a kiss. He flipped his brother the bird on the way out the door.

Turning on her heel Dawn looked at her boss and sighed. “Are you ever not going to bait him?”

He stopped gathering up his notes for a second. “Nope, 'cause then he would think I don't love him.”

He ignored the ball of paper she threw at his back and continued into the office grinning. The promise of hot sex, a new client and pissing off his brother—this was turning out to be a banner day. 

* * * * * *

Mitchell fixed himself a cup of coffee and sat down at Anders' laptop. He resisted the urge to check the god's browsing history, instead went looking for how to get a work visa. He found something called “working holiday” that would let him find a position while he was in the country and if things worked out he could obtain a partnership work visa and after a year a resident visa. He filled out the forms and heaved a sigh. With that out of the way he could explore a little. But first he had a very important call to make.

Annie was sitting around stirring a cup of tea when Skype dinged. She launched herself across the room, intercepting George. The laptop was second hand and she only half knew how to work it, but she could answer a Skype call. 

“Mitchell is that you! Are you alright? Is Anders alright? How was the flight? How is New Zealand? Are you warm enough? Did you take enough clothes?” The questions poured out, each one threading onto the next like beads on a string.

Mitchell was laughing almost too hard to talk. “Yes, yes, nice, yes and yes. I think. I'm fine. Anders is fine. I miss you two. Didn't you get my text?”

George pushed Annie out of the way getting so close to the camera that all Mitchell could see was his nose. “We got it, but there wasn't half enough news to satisfy Miss. Nosy here. What's it like down there?” He jerked as Annie swatted him for the “nosey” comment.

Mitchell laughed. God he missed them so much. “Warmer and less wet than Bristol. Everything is so new here. It's weird to see all the buildings so clean and everything shiny and modern. It's nice though.”

“Do you think you're going to stay?” Annie's voice suddenly seemed very far away. She turned from the camera and picked at a piece of non-existent lint on her blouse.

“I don't know. It's way too soon to be talking about staying. So I'm going to treat it like a holiday, yeah?”

She nodded and George mumbled in agreement. A holiday. That was something the three of them could agree on. George got in front of the camera again. “So, is it true that there are more sheep than people there?”

After the intriguing, but silly discussion of New Zealand sheep population, there really wasn't a lot left to tell, so he mostly listened to George and Annie as they shared their days with him. He'd missed them on a surface level, but now the level of his loss scraped at his heart. The three of them had become so close, so much a part of the warp and woof of one another's lives that he felt isolated being so far away. He clung onto their stories and laughter reluctant to let them go. Even when no one had anything more to say, he was reluctant to close the conversation. Finally George yawned loudly and it was obvious that it was time for the friends to split up again. Saying goodbye took forever and Mitchell sat and looked at the blank screen long after the call had ended.

As long as he had the computer on, Mitchell googled his location to see what was around him. When he found that the Voyager Maritime Museum was only about a 20 minute walk and admission was free, he picked up his jacket and headed out. As he headed down the street he was delighted to find a Japanese restaurant only a few steps from the front door. This day was definitely looking up. 

Auckland was more sprawling, brighter and wider than Bristol, or London. He was glad for the sunglasses and the cap he'd thrown on at the last moment with his black jacket before going out the door. With the glasses on and the cap pulled down he was able to walk comfortably and spent a fair amount of time looking around, trying to see everything at once. Instead of twenty minutes it took him more than twice that to make the walk. 

The museum was fun. He was especially attracted to the Maori artifacts. Their beautifully detailed carvings reminded him of his own people, although their stylized swirls and patterns were a far cry from his beloved knotwork. He itched to be able to run his fingers over the highly polished wood. The boats held less interest for him and the whaling and sealing exhibits none at all. He got a can of Coke out of a vending machine and walked out onto the pier. The cruise the museum offered had already set sail and he was the only person out there.

Walking to the benches near the end of the pier he sat down, sipped his soft drink and watched the gulls wheel overhead. Mitchell lit a cigarette and watched the smoke curl up from the tip before it was whisked away by the sea breeze. He exhaled and then took a sip of his Coke. Another drag and then another sip and finally an admission that he was stalling. He had a lot to think about.

The sun was bright and the end of the pier where it could beat down on him wasn’t the best place to ponder things, but he always found the ocean comforting even though this ocean was nothing like the one that pounded against the beaches of Dublin. Still it was all the same, mother to us all and very good for soothing troubled minds.

He hadn’t intended to have sex with Anders so soon. He was irritated at himself for allowing his libido to get in the way of the plan he’d mapped out on the flight over. He was going to be the bad guy, the one who stood between the god and his booze and one kiss had turned him into a horny teenager. He shook his head in disgust. He’d accused George of not being able to handle his hormones, but he was just as bad or worse and he’d had a century to get a handle on them. All Anders had to do was to look up at him with those impossibly blue eyes, dimples and perfect lips that were always the most amazing shade of pink and he was just lost.

He snorted, laughing at himself. Here he was trying to chastise himself for being too hot for Anders and he was feeling the beginnings of a boner. What was it about that man that just pushed every hot button that he had? He took a long drag on his cigarette and exhaled slowly. He didn’t think for one minute that the god was as okay with being gay, or even bi, as he was acting. Anders was a master at concealing his feelings even from himself, but this was not something that would remain safely hidden. It was going to pop back out and probably at the most inopportune time possible. Since he's already proved himself unable to deal with it, the vampire didn't have much hope that it was going to go better the second time.

He also knew the family was going to be a problem at some point. Ty seemed nice enough and yet Anders went out of his way to antagonize the guy he’d said was his favorite brother. That didn’t leave much hope for good relationships with the other two and probably not with his grandfather, the stoner. Dawn might be able to intercede with Ty, but the others were going to be problematic as were the goddesses. Why was it again that he had come to New Zealand? Oh yeah…sapphire eyes and dimples.

There was no doubt in his mind that Anders Johnson had picked him up and flipped him on his ear. Life had gone all pear shaped since the god had walked into the pub looking golden, impossibly handsome and totally lost. He moved like a predator and yet had an air of vulnerability that Mitchell found irresistible. He was like no one and nothing the vampire had ever met and he was intrigued and then more than intrigued. He knew he was getting in deeper and deeper and at some point he would either have to sink or swim.

He took off his cap and dragged his fingers through his hair as a distraction. What had happened when he vamped out when they had sex? How could he shift as if there was blood involved? Herrick had taught him well, how high he could get on blood and how incredible sex was when he rode the high. As long as he stayed up there was no guilt, no feelings of remorse for the trail of blood and sorrow he left behind. The he met Josie and the high turned to ashes in his mouth. He didn't need it with her. He didn't need it with Anders either. He'd always said that Josie was the only woman he'd ever loved. He stared at his cap. Could this be what was happening with Anders?

“Jaysus, no,” he whispered to himself. He couldn't take that much pain again. 

He got up and walked to the trash where he disposed of his cigarette butt. Wandering down to the end of the pier, he leaned against the railing, looking out at the sailboats. They looked so free with white sails scooping up the sea breeze. He couldn't remember ever feeling free. First it was the stricture of being a good Catholic boy and then the military and finally Herrick and The Hunger. He just wanted to live his life and love whom he chose—even if that was a fucking Norse semi-god. 

At the thought of love, he paused and sat with the quiet only a vampire can achieve. For a time there was not even thought. His mind was a grey mist as time stopped. Love was something he'd long ago convinced himself was not for him. He'd tried to make an exception for Josie, but when that had turned to ashes he slammed and locked the door behind him. This was a...what? An affair? You don't fly a full day to help someone in an affair. A tryst...no that was the first night. Friends with benefits? You don't live together and feel your pulse and cock rise every time you see them. What was it then, besides an invitation to pain?

He put his cap back on and heaved a sigh. He supposed that the pain from loving Josie came from the fact that he was such a dedicated arsehole and didn't have the good sense to stay with her and try to make a life for them. When a vampire turns you into the life they have far too much power over you, although most don't abuse it as Herrick did. His eyes darkened at how he'd let himself be led and used by a sociopath. Looking back, he didn't understand how he could have ever allowed that to happen. He could have turned his back many times but he chose the easy way, the coward's way, following that bastard down a river of blood rather than being his own man. 

Well, he was his own man now, making his own choices. He'd tried to clean up the nest in Bristol, but it had gone wrong. At some point the Old Ones were going to step in and eradicate the lot of them before they did any more damage. They were too open, too kill-happy, endangering them all with the constant threat of exposure. Bristol vamps were more like a pack of rabid dogs who would have to be dealt with. 

He was here in Auckland now, a half a world away where the sun was bright and the air sweet. He could build a future here. He put his hands in his pockets and started walking back to Anders' condo. He'd come half way around the world and owed it to himself and to the god to do the best he could. If they made it that would be brilliant. If they didn't then it wasn't meant to be, but it wouldn't be because he hadn't done his best.


	8. Days and Nights Falling By

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets are out and Anders' brothers are not happy with his life choices.

_And so this is where I should be now_  
Days and nights falling by  
Days and nights falling by me.  
I know of a dream I should be holding  
Days and nights falling by  
Days and nights falling by me. 

Mitchell walked back from the pier lost in thought. He knew that he had entered a new phase of his life, one where he no long lived day to day. He'd thrown his lot in with humans, but what about gods? What about this god in particular? Anders/Bragi of the honeyed tongue, sky blue eyes and dimples had taken him by storm. He didn't know what to think about it, how to categorize it. He didn't want to look beneath the surface of it lest there be monsters dwelling there. And yet he knew that they couldn't make it as a couple unless he did.

He was still musing about how to handle things when he realized that he was close to Anders' office. On impulse, he changed course. Dawn looked up in surprise when he came in and then smiled at him. “He's on the phone. Keep your fingers crossed.”

“How has it been going?” He hated to ask, but he wanted to know how Anders was handling his first day back.

“He's been busy all day. I think he's got a live one.” She was about to say something else when Ty came in. 

He took off his bike helmet, nodded to Mitchell and went over to give Dawn a peck on the cheek and hand her a cup of coffee he'd brought in. She blushed prettily, probably because the Irishman saw it and smiled approvingly. 

“He's been giving it a go and I think he might have landed us an account he's been working on.” She smiled and took a sip of her coffee.

Mitchell was about to say something when Ty spoke up. “So how long have you and Anders been friends?”

The vampire shrugged. “Not that long. I met him when he was in England.”

Ty gave him a long look. “And yet you flew to the other side of the world to come and help him out.” He continued to stare at Mitchell as if trying to figure something out. 

“It seemed like the right thing to do,” he replied, trying to be noncommittal. 

Ty leaned on Dawn's desk. “It just seems a little odd you'd come all the way here for a man who’s never been known to have any friends before.”

Dawn reached over and gave him a bit of a shove. “Ty, that's enough, give it a rest.”

“No really, my brother doesn't have friends. He has clients and maybe business associates and definitely bimbos, but not friends. Suddenly he has a friend who comes all the way from England coincidentally at the time when he's been stupid enough to OD on vodka.” His stare hardened. “I think that's odd.” He turned to Dawn. “Don't you think that's odd?”

“So what are you getting at, mate?” Mitchell returned Ty's glare.

Before he could answer, Anders came out of his office, breaking into a wide smile when he saw Mitchell. “Hey you gorgeous hunk, JPR now represents the biggest hardware chain on the north island. I can hardly wait to get you...”

The Irishman's eyes widened and he shot a look at Ty. Anders followed his gaze and the rest of his sentence was lost as his mouth snapped shut abruptly. The four of them just looked at one another, the room utterly silent. 

Without warning, Anders' brother launched himself across the room. “You fucking faggot! I'm going to kill you!”

Moving with vamp speed Mitchell intercepted him, grabbing his arm and holding him firmly. “Take it easy, Ty.”

The brunette twisted trying pull himself free from the vampire's grasp. “You don't understand. This fucker made my life hell. He told my girlfriends that I was gay. I didn't know why they kept dumping me. He thought it was funny. Now I find out he's got a _boyfriend!_ ”

Mitchell looked from Ty to Anders and back again. He could see that it was the truth. Abruptly, he released his hold. “Well then, don't let me stand in your way.”

Anders backed up, his eyes wide. “Mitchell, what the fuck?” 

“If you do shite like that to your brother you deserve to get your arse kicked.” He looked as if he'd tasted something bitter. “I know you said you could be a prick, but that's low.”

Ty had stopped a few feet away from Anders and was glaring at him. His brother looked back and forth between the two men. “I didn't mean anything by it. I just did it because it was funny.”

“Funny?” the other three asked nearly in unison. 

Dawn stood up and walked over to her boss. “You have a very twisted idea of what's funny. I remember you hinting about Ty being gay, but thank god I didn't believe it.” She took Ty's arm. “We're leaving now.”

Mitchell and Anders watched them leave holding hands and not glancing back. They stood in silence, Anders having the grace to look ashamed. The Irishman just looked sad.

Finally, the god mumbled, “I'm sorry to drag you into this, Mitchell. I told you I was fucked up.” He reached up and yanked at his tie, loosening it further. “I guess I hated myself so much I took it out on my brother. I didn't realize how much I hurt him. I never do. I just say shit and walk away.” He looked up at the Irishman. “Would you have let him hit me?”

Mitchell shook his head ruefully. “Probably not, but you deserved it. That really is a crap thing to do to anyone let alone your brother.”

“Well, you know how it is, brothers pick on each other.” He was desperate to find an excuse for his behavior.

Picking up his coat, Mitchell shook his head. “No I don't. I never treated my brothers like that.” He looked at the sadness in Anders' eyes. “But then I didn't have a family like yours. My parents loved us. I've done some horrible things, but I can't blame anyone except myself.”

“Maybe that's my problem...I never blame myself for anything.” He heaved a sigh. “It's easier to blame my family.”

Mitchell had been furious, but it had passed and his heart went out to the man standing in front of him, stripped of pretense and excuses. Sliding on his jacket he managed a little smile. “Come on dickhead, let's go.”

There was an almost-protest, then the god nodded and followed him out the door. 

They walked back to the apartment in silence. Anders was waiting for the phone calls. He knew they were coming. Ty would tell Mike, who would tell Michele, who would tell everyone and take great delight in doing so. Olaf would be bemused, but that was the way he'd been since he'd discovered pot. God only knew what Axl was going to say, something rude, no doubt. It wasn't going to be fun. God how he needed a drink!

They didn't have any food in the house and desperately needed to go to the grocery, but Anders was in no condition to do anything. Mitchell eyed the Japanese place as they passed by and decided that takeaway would have to do. 

They got in the door and Mitchell hung up his jacket. He heard the fridge and looked over to see Anders pulling the bottle of vodka out of the freezer. Before he could set it on the counter the vampire had it and had put it away. 

“Give me that, god damn it!” Anders' expression was a combination of pissed off and ready to burst into tears. 

“You're going to get through this without it.” He looked down into those huge blue eyes, his heart nearly breaking for the pain reflected in them. “You can do it.”

“No, I can't,” the god replied miserably. “All I can do is fuck things up.”

“You didn't fuck up today. You got a new client, remember?” The brunette spoke softly, brushing Anders' cheek with the pad of his thumb. 

He shook his head. “I haven't closed the deal yet, so don't throw any parties.”

Mitchell drew him into his arms and kissed his temple. “You will. That's what you do best, close the deal. I know from personal experience.” That got him a twitch of a smile and he gently nibbled Anders' very kissable lips. 

The kiss deepened and they clung together, each finding comfort. The blond's breath was sweet from a mint he'd eaten, his mouth tasting cool, his tongue moving lazily, stroking Mitchell's. It was a slow kiss full of promise and love. They both wished that it could have gone on forever.

Anders' stomach rumbled, reminding them both that food was as necessary as kissing. The god hadn't eaten since breakfast. “I'm starving,” he whispered. “Do we have any food?”

“The cupboard is bare,” was the response. “but I believe the nice Japanese people at the end of the block have extra.” 

The two of them pored over the menu and decided on the cheapest entrees of chicken teriyaki and fried rice. “We gotta get to the store,” Anders said ruefully. “I'm gonna go broke if we keep eating out.”

“Tomorrow. I'll make a list,” Mitchell promised. “I'll email Annie and Dawn and get some simple recipes and we will start cooking.”

The god twisted around and fixed Mitchell with a critical stare. “And what's this “we” shit?”

“Okay. I will cook.” He looked at the slight wince. “I've never poisoned anyone yet.”

“Yeah well, that's because they didn't eat your cooking. You told me Annie gave up on you.”

Mitchell stood up and pulled his jacket out of the closet. “A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.”

Anders groaned more or less all the way to get their food.

The chicken was good, the fried rice even better and they ate mostly in silence. Anders was visibly nervous and cast a couple of longing glances at the freezer. Mitchell tried to find things to say to soothe him, none of which worked in the least. They were both painfully aware that they god's carefully crafted facade had been broken and that all the king's horses and all the king's men would be of no help this day. 

They had just finished doing the dishes when there was a knock on the door. Actually pounding was much more accurate. Mitchell jerked around, but saw that Anders wasn't alarmed, he just looked miserable. 

The Irishman remained in the kitchen while Anders opened the door and was pushed aside by a very large angry young man into the living room. “Anders, you disobeyed a direct order, what the fuck are you thinking?”

“Mitchell, meet Axl, my youngest brother. Axl, this is Mitchell...a friend of mine.”

Axl glared at Mitchell. “Out! Now! I need to talk to my brother in private.”

The Irishman winced at the tone, unsure whether he should leave the two men alone or not. He started toward the closet but was stopped by Anders. “Anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of Mitchell, since he's the reason you're here.”

He faced his brother with his arms crossed defensively. “If this is about me sleeping with a guy you can just turn your ass around and take it back home.” 

Axl frowned. “You know it’s not. Okay, I admit I’m surprised, but I got over it. This is about the order I gave you.”

Anders looked thoughtful, but the corner of his mouth twitched in a smile. “You mean the order Odin gave me.”

“Whatever. Stop being such a dick. You know what I’m talking about.” Axl shifted his body nervously, emphasizing his battle between frustration and anger. Mitchell took one step closer.

“You know I would never disobey The All-Father.” The words were subservient but the tone dripped sarcasm.

“Jesus Anders, give it a break just this once! You know why I gave the order for you not to sleep with those women. If you didn’t treat them like shit it might be different. Don’t you get it, you can’t use people like tissue and then throw them away.” He pointed toward Mitchell. “What about him? What happens to him when you get tired of your little walk on the gay-side.”

“I won’t get tired of him.” Anders’ voice was even, his eyes flitting back and forth between his brother and the Irishman. 

“You get tired of everyone,” Axl sighed, his lips thinning with exasperation. “You have the attention span of a gnat and the loyalty of a tom cat.”

Anders was affronted. “Hey, did you just barge into my house to insult me, or do you actually have a reason for being here?”

“I’m here because he’s here and he shouldn’t be.” Axl looked over at Mitchell. “You really do need to take a walk, mate. Come back in ten.”

“He’s not leaving, but you are.” Anders bristled. “I’ve heard enough shit in my own house. Leave before I throw you out.”

Axl looked down at Anders who barely came to his shoulder. “You try and I'll throw your sorry ass into next week. We need to get this settled and I can’t talk about family business in front of this guy.”

“Yeah well, ‘this guy’ isn’t leaving. Anything you have say, you can say in front of Mitchell. “We have no secrets.” Anders looked at Mitchell who nodded.

Anders looked up at him evenly. “Mitchell knows that we're gods. It's not a secret.”

Axl’s fists clenched tightly and he shook his head. “I can’t believe you did this. You know what happens when you involve a human in god business. It never turns out well...for the human.”

Anders smiled at him and took a step closer to the vampire.

The younger man looked as if he really wanted to deck Anders. “Jesus fucking Christ, Anders, even you know better than that! It's not something you go around telling people. It's not bad enough you have to drag...uh...people into your bed with Bragi but now you're saying things that can get them hurt. You know damn well what happens when we involve humans into god shit. I ordered you to keep humans out of your bed.”

“You ordered me to keep _women_ out of my bed and I haven't broken that order.” Anders replied quietly. He stood waiting, his muscles tensed. He'd learned the hard way that his brother had a short fuse and didn't have a problem with hitting him.

“Well, how the fuck was I supposed to know that I had to tell you to keep men out of your bed, too?” He rocked back on his heels. “I probably should have thought of that, but I didn't. So okay, no human men in your bed either, or anything else you might suddenly decide you want to fuck.”

Axl advanced on his brother. He looked sideways at Mitchell, his eyes hard, the anger and maybe a little disgust blazing in them. He towered the Irishman and outweighed him by far. Squaring his shoulders to emphasize his size he gave an order. “Mate, you need to get your shit and go back where you came from. The party's over.”

The vampire took a step toward him and cocked his head. “It's not your house...mate.” He spoke quietly emphasizing the last word. “And I've had enough of you bullying Anders. It stops _now._ ”

Axl turned toward Mitchell, his face dark and dangerous. He was Odin now and was not to be fucked with. He didn't have any thunderbolts, but he was big and had a mean right hook at his disposal. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

Anders quickly stepped in between them and faced his younger brother down. “He's not human, Axl. Back off!” 

His brother was about to say something else and then stopped. “What the fuck do you mean 'he's not human'? He's not one of us, so he has to be human.”

Mitchell started to say something, but Anders held up his hand and he remained quiet. “You're twenty-three fucking years old, Axl. Do you _really_ think you know everything? There's Maori gods and probably every other damn kind of god knocking around. Maybe even Irish gods.”

He was confused. Axl looked back and forth between them. “So what is he, an Irish god? What the fuck, Anders?”

Anders had been terrified of this moment, but now he found he was actually enjoying it. “No, not a god...something...else...something a lot more dangerous.”

Mitchell stepped forward. “Anders, stop it.” He looked up at Axl and smiled slightly. “My name is John Mitchell. I was born in Dublin, Ireland on July 29th, 1893. I'm not human...anymore, because I'm a vampire.”

Axl chuckled and looked at Anders expecting to see him sharing the joke. His brother looked back at him smiling. The young god turned to Mitchell and grinned, “You look pretty good for over a hundred years old.”

The Irishman heaved a sigh. “That's because I was turned when I was twenty four and don't age.”

Axle gave a nervous laugh. “Sure. Right. A vampire. That's a good one. Pull the other leg, it's got bells on.” His face darkened again. “Ok, vampire, or whatever the hell you are. Get the fuck out. Like I said, the party's over.”

Mitchell looked at him squarely, his face lost all expression and he closed his eyes. When he opened his eyes they were black with no pupil or iris visible. Axl looked down, seeing his reflection in their bottomless depths and started backing up. The vampire's mouth opened showing long sharp fangs. Axl fell over the ottoman and landed hard, his arm raised to fend off an attack.

Mitchell blinked his eyes and closed his mouth. He heaved a sigh and looked almost sad. “I won't hurt you,” he said quietly. “I think you believe me now.”

He nodded and scrambled to get up. Instinctively Mitchell reached out, but Axl fell back. “I'll get myself up if you don't mind.” 

He stood up and moved closer to Anders. “And you brought him back to Auckland with you?” His expression was pained and his eyes shifted as if he didn't know where to look. “You sleep with a monster and you brought him here?”

Anders chuckled. He was enjoying this far too much. “He's not a monster and it's more like he followed me, but the one to blame is Dawn. She sent for him when I ended up in hospital.”

“Does she know that he's a...uh...?”

“No. She just thinks that he's my boyfriend which is weird enough. I don't think she needs to know any more than that.” 

“I wish I didn't know any more than that,” it was said under his breath, but Mitchell heard him easily. He could also detect the elevated heart rate and hear the singing of his blood. If he wasn't a god the vampire would be battling against going into hunter mode. As it was his eyes flicked ebony for a moment and Axl paled.

“I can't believe you've done this.” He was edging toward the door and Mitchell moved so that the way out was clear. 

Anders looked up at him blue eyes dark with anger. “And I can't believe you thought you could just barge into my house and throw out my boyfriend.” He nodded toward the door. “Get the fuck out!”

Axl didn't need to be told twice. He bolted for the door, ramming his shoulder painfully into the jamb as he left. The two men stood there looking at his car as he sped away. This hadn't exactly gone as planned. Both had hoped for more time to introduce Mitchell. 

The Irishman turned to Anders and smiled. “Did you just call me your boyfriend?”

The god looked a little sheepish. “Yeah, I kinda did.”

“I kinda like that,” Mitchell said, drawing him into his arms.

It wasn't until the kiss broke that Anders was able to respond, “I kinda like it, too.”

* * * * * * 

Sex started out hot with the two of them barely able to make into the bedroom. Axl probably wasn't two blocks away before they began tearing at each other's clothes. Both were stripped to the waist by the time they hit the bedroom and neither of them remembered how they managed to get the rest of their clothing off. 

Mitchell pressed Anders back onto the bed and slid between his legs, lying full-length, desperate to feel his skin and the warmth of his body. Their kisses were wild, wet and sloppy, with as much licking as kissing. The god had his fingers tangled in those long silken curls and used them as an anchor to hold the Irishman steady under the onslaught of his kisses. 

There wasn't time for lube or prep or anything except the storm of lust that swept over them. Mitchell's eyes were obsidian when he reached between their bodies and wrapped long cool fingers around both their cocks and started a rhythm that had them moaning and thrusting into his fist. It was hot and wild and messy. Neither of them could last.

Anders pulled free of Mitchell's lips, slid his mouth down the long column of his neck and bit down, sucking hard, the sting transmuting into pleasure as he marked the vampire as his own. Another thrust and hot wet semen was spilled between them as first Mitchell finished and then Anders immediately after, their cries mingling to be silenced by a long passionate kiss. 

They lay for long minutes, just getting their breath back, Mitchell listening to the pounding of Anders' heart and his own as it picked up to mirror the beat. Two hearts that beat as one, he mused. Never in his long life did he think he would find anyone like Anders. As much as he had loved Josie, it was never this intense. He always had to hold back and worry about the blood lust. With the god he could let go and allow his lust to run wild. It was amazing and liberating and totally and completely awesome.

Anders nibbled Mitchell's neck, licking the spot he'd bitten. “Did I hurt you? I didn't mean to bite so hard.”

Mitchell kissed his ear. “It really wasn't that hard. I was too hot for it to hurt. I think that's what made me come.” He chuckled softly. “I like that you marked me. I'm your...boyfriend.”

“Yeah, you are.” Anders smiled and gave the spot a little kiss, then twisted his body so that he could look up at Mitchell. “And I'm yours.”

“I suppose I should tell you that I've never been anyone's boyfriend before.” He looked into the Irishman's warm chocolate eyes and felt a little inadequate. “I'm not sure how it works.”

Gentle kisses on his lips and one on his nose. “Not even when you were in school?”

A headshake dislodged the kiss. “I was the little guy with the crappy family. How could I date when I knew I could never bring anyone home?” He ran his hand down Mitchell's spine and slid the other one up to hold him close. “When I was maybe sixteen I realized that I had more interest in blokes than in the girls, so I just concentrated on being the smartass.”

“Well, you can be my smartass,” Mitchell said as he kissed him again. “I've never been a guy's boyfriend, so we will figure this out together.”

“Let's start figuring it out in the shower,” Anders suggested. “Before we're glued together.”

The shower was slow and sensuous. They both devoted time to making sure the other was clean and that every possible inch of skin had been lovingly stroked, kneaded and soaped. They had crossed a threshold that neither of them had really considered an option. Axl's bullying was a blessing in disguise. By trying to part them he'd created a bond that both of them welcomed. They knew they hadn't heard the last of it, but they didn't care. They were together now and that was all that mattered.

When, at last, they went back to bed, their lovemaking was slow and sweet and erotic. Mitchell laid lazily on the bed inviting his lover inside his body. Every touch was calculated and went on forever. Kisses were soft and sweet with hands touching every place that kisses didn't. The words they whispered were gentle, and while neither said “the L Word” yet, it echoed with every touch, every whisper, every kiss. 

Anders bent over his boyfriend, riding deep within him, feeling the clench of tight muscle and heat of his delicate inner passage. He knew where that sweet spot was and how to brush against it teasingly and then harder as Mitchell arched up under him begging for release. He looked down, hungry for the sight of his partner's orgasm as he stroked the Irishman in time with his thrusts. In the half-light from the vanilla candle they'd lit, it shimmered in long arcs to land sparkling amid the dark hair of the Mitchell's chest. The vampire wrenched upward, eyes dark as pitch, crying out again and again, triggering Anders' own thundering release. 

The two of them clung together shuddering with the aftershocks. A soft smile curved on Mitchell's lips as he reached up and ran gentle fingers through the god's hair then pulled him down in a long slow kiss. “That was brilliant, boyfriend,” he murmured.

“It was rather, wasn't it?” Anders replied cheekily.

Mitchell slid his arms around the god and hugged him tightly. “Yes it was, and so are you. Now fetch me a wet cloth and blow out the candle. I need to sleep—you've killed me.”

Anders laughed and got off the bed. “Poor old man, I'll get you all tucked in.”

Before he could move strong arms dragged him back down and found the ticklish spot on his left side. They collapsed into a heap of giggles. Whatever tomorrow brought they'd be ready for it.


	9. As You Are Rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being a couple means making adjustments and allowances. Every day is a new experience for them both. But there is a darkness rising that must be dealt with and a family who is not happy that they have a vampire on their doorstep.

Soft blue horizons  
Reach far into my childhood days  
As you are rising  
To bring me my forgotten ways.

The day was bright and the office quiet. Anders carried a sheaf of paperwork out for Dawn and laid it on her desk. “Where's that little brother of mine, he's usually buzzing around you like a horny bee.”

She raised an eyebrow and gave him a disgusted look that easily translated to: 'don't talk like that you idiot.' “I don't know. I haven't heard from him this morning. Maybe he had an early delivery. He'll be by later.”

Anders smiled and nodded, with his fingers crossed mentally. Trust Axl to run right out the door and start making phone calls. _News Alert! Anders is shagging a dead guy...with fangs..._

It was just his usual shitty luck that Axl felt the need to go all Odin on him and come over to lay down the law. A little repressed homophobia had surfaced, taking things from bad to worse. He was glad that Mitchell hadn't come in, but had opted to stay home and do something constructive about a shopping list. He paused. “Home.” He liked the sound of that, even more he liked the idea of keeping the vampire as far away from the office as possible seemed like a good idea at the moment. 

He made a few more phone calls. Bragi was one smooth fucker and really helped grease the skids. He had lunches set up for today and tomorrow as well as a business meeting for tomorrow afternoon. He tipped the chair back and chewed thoughtfully on the end of his pen. It seemed to be coming together. He'd never had trouble getting clients in the past. His problem had always been keeping them. He'd been too busy playing the big shot to actually be one. At that thought he frowned and resisted the urge to throw the pencil across the room. 

The truth is that he'd been too busy partying and chasing tail, running from who and what he was to actually be anyone at all. Anders Johnson—party whore. Not a very attractive thing for a grown man to be. As much as he hated to admit it, maybe Mike had a point when he'd yelled at him to, “Grow the fuck up.” 

Growing up meant taking on responsibility. For him it had meant being like Mike. He loved his brother, but he didn't like him very much most of the time. He'd watched Mike sink in his responsibilities of running his own business, trying to be the best possible husband and a father figure to Axl. The burden of that had driven him to his knees. He'd become a reverse role-model to Anders...the brother he didn't want to be like. The more he saw Mike struggle the more he'd turned to partying, drinking and the occasional chemical recreation. 

But maybe, just maybe, Mike had actually wanted to do these things. Maybe he'd believed in himself enough to make the attempt to be all things to all people. In retrospect he hadn't done too bad a job. Axl had turned out to be a good kid, if Valerie wasn't such an idiot the marriage might have worked out as well. At least Mike was respected. Anders tipped the chair forward and closed his eyes. No one respected him...not until Mitchell. A vampire, dead for 96 years and yet he made the god feel more alive than he ever had. He made Anders want to be the person Mitchell seemed to think he was.

He stood up and went out to see if Dawn had the contracts for the hardware store typed up yet so that he could look them over before lunch. He cruised out of his office and skidded to a stop. Ty was talking to Dawn and had turned to look at him with a face as dark as a thunder cloud.

“Ty, my office, _now_.” He spun on his heel and went back through the door.

He tipped the chair back and set his expression to neutral. He pulled out a blank contract, picked up the pen and wrote nonsense on a blank line, giving him the look of casual indifference. He didn't look up when Ty came in and shut the door. 

“Anders, what the fuck are you thinking?” 

“Good morning, Ty,” he said pleasantly. “Would you care to have a seat?”

“No, I don't want any fucking seat!” He kept his voice low, but the anger in it washed over Anders. Normally it would bother him. Not today.

“I want to know how you can justify bringing a vampire here?” His fists were balled in anger. “How could you let him near Dawn?”

Anders looked up and smiled slightly. “Well, if you hadn't felt the need to go running to Odin to tell him I was shagging a human we wouldn't be having this conversation would we? So you might try being just a bit less outraged.”

The reply was the room temperature dropping by twenty degrees. Sometimes Ty was better than air conditioning. “Now if you could cool your jets as fast as you cooled the room and give me time I could tell you that I didn't _let_ him near Dawn. She contacted him on her own. As a matter of fact she's the one who brought him here and on my dime.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“It's a long story, but basically I left my phone with Mitchell, Dawn called it and got him instead of me. They talked and she found out about our relationship, so when I ended up in hospital she dragged his ass over here to comfort me.” He put down the pen and tipped the chair back. “So him being here is basically all your girlfriend's fault.”

Ty paced back and forth still glaring at his brother. “Does she know what he is?”

“Nope. She just knows he's my boyfriend and that he's a nice bloke.” He looked at the brunette and pointed. “I don't think you need to tell her any more than that.”

Pulling out a chair Ty collapsed into it looking deflated. “How could I? How can anyone explain it?” His brows knit again. “Is she in any danger from him?”

Chuckling, Anders shook his head. “No one is in any danger from him, any more than they are from you.”

“But he's a _vampire!_ ”

“And you're the god of all things freezy and dismal, but do you go around freezing random people just because you can? He's no more a monster than you are.”

“He can control it?” The god's expression showed that he didn't know what emotion to have, so they all played across his face, amusing his brother. 

“Better than you can, bro. As far as Dawn is concerned she already knows all she needs to know.”

“And you're sure she's safe?”

“As safe as she is with you. Safer maybe, because...you know...vampire strength and speed. You don't fuck with Mitchell's friends.” He smiled a little at the thought. He had no doubt that anyone who hurt Dawn would be a dead man.

“How about you?” Ty asked slowly. “Axl said he thought he was going to be attacked.”

“You might want to ask Axl about the fact that he came to my home acting like a bully, threatening me and telling Mitchell to pack up and get out.” He looked at Ty's expression. “I can see he didn't tell you that part. All Mitchell did was show him what he was for a moment. Axl fell over the ottoman on his own and refused Mitchell's help to get up.” 

“Are you sure...uh...sure that you aren't in any danger?” 

“Yeah I'm safe. Turns out that gods don't smell like food. Even if he was starving I wouldn't be on the menu.” His lips twisted in a half-smile. “It's another perk of being a god. We're safe from vampires. Who knew.”

Puzzled, his brother leaned forward. “I don't understand. You have blood.”

“As near as I can tell it's like the difference between flowers and steak. They both smell good, but only one smells like food.” It was the best analogy that Anders could come with on short notice. The look on Ty's face told him it worked, it also made him struggle not to burst out laughing. This brother was such a walking bag of feels that it was hard to resist poking him now and again.

“But Dawn smells like food.” It wasn't a question.

“No. Dawn smells like a friend. What do you think, vampires just go around sucking everyone they meet dry?” He laughed, enjoying this far too much. “You met him, does he look like a blood thirsty predator?”

A shrug and a puzzled look. “Well, no...but then I haven't met any vampires.”

“Yeah, you have. They come from all walks of life and like us, they don't advertize their condition. You've repaired their fridges and delivered packages to them.” He grinned at Ty's shocked expression. “Come over for dinner some night and I'm sure Mitchell will be glad to explain things more. He likes you, but there's no accounting for taste.”

It was Ty's turn to smile. “Dick.”

Anders came around the desk and sat on the corner in front of his brother. “Look, I know this is all weird as fuck. It's not any more clear from my side of the fence. I tried drowning in a bottle to get away from it, but you can't escape reality. The reality is that I'm gay, or at least bi and that I have a vampire for a boyfriend. I hope you handle that news a shit ton better than I did.”

“Well it is kind of a surprise.” He shook his head as if trying to clear it. “I don't have a problem with it aside from being confused as hell.”

“Welcome to my world. I've been confused as hell since I entered that pub in Bristol. But I'm getting over it.” He got up and walked over to the palm in the corner. He noted that it needed watering. Tugging on a leaf he gave a rueful little smile. “Yeah, I'm getting over it.”

Ty walked over to stand next to him. “Are you happy?” He looked at his brother his nurturing side rising in a need to hear that things were okay with the guy he'd been worrying about for years.

“Yeah.” Anders looked into Ty's dark eyes and smiled, dimples digging deeply. “Yeah, I am.”

Ty gathered him into his arms and hugged him breathless. “As long as you're happy I'm okay with it. Weirded out, but okay.”

When he let go Anders grinned at him. “So, you'll come for dinner one night?”

“You know, I think I'd like that.” Ty's expression softened and then he smiled. “ I'll be looking forward to it.”

So would Anders. He was still smiling as his brother went out to hit on Dawn. He was humming to himself as he adjusted his tie and flicked an imaginary piece of lint from his lapel. It was time to leave for that lunch and seal the deal. If there was one thing he knew how to do it was to get the client to sign on the dotted line. He checked himself in the mirror one last time. He looked good and was feeling even better. He picked the contract up from Dawn, bid them both goodbye and headed out to be the head of the best PR agency in Auckland.

* * * * * *  
The lunch went splendidly. Anders was in rare form with conversation that flowed as smoothly as the wine. He limited himself to one glass, watching appreciatively as his guest downed several becoming looser and more friendly with each sip. Bragi was scarcely needed beyond one statement of JPR's success rate. When a man is that unhappy with his PR company it doesn't take much to win him over. The meeting ended on a high note with a signature and a handshake. 

The god sat in his car not wanting to go back to the office. He didn't have anything to do there now that this meeting was out of the way. Making a quick decision he stopped by, handed the contract to Dawn and told her he wouldn't be back. He also told her to be sure to leave early and go have dinner with that brother of his. 

He called Mitchell on the cheap burner phone they'd picked up for him. His phone had been acting a little hinky after the dustup with the two vampires in London. 

“Where are ya, babe?” the god asked cheerfully.

“Babe is it? I like that. Of course you can keep calling me Sexy if you want to,” Mitchell replied with a laugh.

“I think we should stick with Babe because I don't need to be thinking about your long, luscious, lanky body every time I talk to you. No, wait...yes I do.” They both burst out laughing. 

“To what do I owe the honor of this call?” the Irishman asked when he caught his breath.

“Where are you? And have you made a shopping list yet? I'm sick of eating what we can scrounge out of the cupboard.”

“Home and yes. So you and I are going to go shopping as a couple? I have to say I kinda like that.”

“Just don't fondle the cucumbers.”

It took Mitchell a minute to process what he just heard and then several minutes more before he could stop laughing long enough to talk. “I leave that kind of shite up to you, dickhead.”

“Ah, I have a pet name,” Anders responded. “Drac and Dickhead. We could have our own spot on the TV right after 'The Biggest Loser' we'll fit right in.”

“Idiot. Where are you?”

“Parked out front. Trot your sexy ass out here and lets go and see what's for supper.”

Anders was still grinning when Mitchell slid in next to him. They both resisted the urge to kiss in public, but the Irishman reached over and squeezed his knee. “So take me to your local supermarket and we'll see what damage we can do.”

Anders had been dreading the trip, but shopping with Mitchell was fun. Admittedly it was like shopping with a fairly well mannered child, one with boundless energy and enthusiasm. As promised the Irishman did not fondle the cucumbers, instead he tossed one to the god, giggling madly as it was juggled and then quickly returned to the display. It did end up back in the cart along with other salad fixings.

Mitchell, it turned out, had amused himself by watching cooking shows and then logging onto cooking sites. He wanted to make “New Zealand food” and had caged some recipes from Dawn as well as a couple from Annie. Their cultures were going to meet in the kitchen. Anders, always a fussy eater, was hoping that his boyfriend's new-found interest in cooking was matched by at least some aptitude. He wondered how much trouble he'd be in if he couldn't eat what he was served. Watching Mitchell intently scanning the shelves for bargains that matched his grocery list he heaved a sigh. No matter what it was he'd eat it. 

There was no one in the paper good isle and Mitchell took it as a sign that Anders needed a kiss. Not that he minded in the least. They managed two pecks and half a snog before an elderly couple came around the corner and they practically leaped apart to become fascinated by toilet paper and facial tissue respectively. 

There was a lovely woman giving out free samples of pizza in the frozen food isle. Mitchell homed in on her like a short range missile. After he'd turned on the charm powered by amber eyes and a glowing smile he wandered away with a handful of coupons and almost half a pizza. 

“I'm never taking your shopping again,” Anders threatened. 

“Sure you are. Free food—open up!” He'd popped a chunk of pizza into the god's mouth and then handed him a slice. Spying another sample lady he grinned and said, “I'm gonna go score us some desert.” 

The ice cream was delicious, but Anders was pretty sure they didn't usually give it out in multiples of those tiny cups. 

Part way through the store Mitchell stopped and looked at the pasta. He'd never realized that it came in so many varieties, shapes and sizes. He was lost. He was going to make lasagne and there turned out to be many kinds of lasagne noodles. He picked up the boxes, read them and then put them back on the shelf. He must have looked helpless because an older woman stopped next to him.

“There's a lot of choices, isn't there? Do you you need some help deciding?” She smiled at him and he nodded.

“I just want to make lasagna and there are so many noodles.” He pushed back a tangle of curls and smiled back.

“Just learning to cook are you?” She nodded toward Anders who was pretending to be fascinated by the pasta sauces. “Is he your fella? Looks like you done alright. He looks to be quite the catch.”

Mitchell blushed and nodded, looking at Anders out of the corner of his eyes. “Yeah, I'm pretty lucky.”

She laughed. “You're so darlin' I'd say he's the lucky one. But we gotta get you fed.” She explained the difference in the noodles, recommended the best brand. She took his list and looked it over critically, then gave it back smiling. “I think you're going to feed your young man just fine.”

He smiled at her looking like sunshine on a cloudy day. “Thanks for your help.”

She returned his smile. “When I see you again you'll have to let me know how the lasagne came out.” 

He promised that he would and went down to tell Anders about his conquest. The god smiled at her. She watched them go on down the isle smiling to herself. The world was changing in a good way.

* * * * * *

Mitchell was stressed and it started to show. He wanted to do the best he could, but he didn't really know what he was doing and this was alien territory. He'd never shopped for more than pre-made items in boxes, tins or the freezer. But Anders needed good nutrition and he was determined to provide it. There was also the beginnings of another hunger deep within him that he was trying to keep at bay. He'd be able to hold it off for awhile longer, but the tension that came with being in Auckland was driving the need to the surface faster than normal. All around him was the scent of blood. He took a moment to close his eyes and center himself, trying to shut it out.

“What's wrong?” Anders had been watching his tension rise and laid a concerned hand on his arm.

Mitchell's smile was small and tight with embarrassment, but his eyes were warm as he looked at his boyfriend. “I just want to make sure I get the right things. I don't want to waste your money.” He took a breath and then said, “I applied for a work permit. I'm hoping it comes along soon, so I can contribute. I can't just live off of you.”

“You're not living off me,” Anders protested. “You just got here.”

“Uninvited,” Mitchell replied softly. He was still painfully aware that he had landed on the god's doorstep with his luggage in one hand and his heart in the other. 

Unmindful of who might be watching, Anders gathered the taller man into his arms. “You probably saved my life and certainly my sanity.” He looked up into dark chocolate eyes and saw himself reflected there. It occurred to him that he wanted to keep seeing that reflection for the rest of his life. “You're here because I want you...in so many ways.” He gave a wink to defuse the situation.

He felt rather than heard Mitchell's soft laugh. “Okay, boyfriend, but I'm still going to get a job and be careful with your money.”

Anders watched him finish the shopping. Mitchell made him happy like no one ever had before. This all felt so right that it was terrifying. Every time he thought things were going well they turned to shit. The Irishman picked up a bottle of some kind of herb and examined it intently. Lord, but he was beautiful with the curls and the perfect features and that long lithe body. There was that little matter of him being a vampire that was the proverbial fly in the ointment. They hadn't addressed that yet and the god was afraid that it would be the end of them, leaving him alone again.

Mitchell said something to him, but he didn't hear it. It took at touch on his arm and a look up into worried dark eyes to bring him back to the present. “Are you okay? I've been talking to you, but you didn't answer.”

“I'm fine. I was just thinking about the meeting tomorrow, that's all.” He smiled and let the warmth creep back into his eyes. “It's a big account and everything has to be perfect.”

“Can Bragi help?” the Irishman asked quietly.

Anders laughed. “Well, yes and no. He can get me in the door. He can get them to sign, but I still have to produce results and he can't do that. It's just me and my twisted little brain that has to come up with the ideas and then implement them. Don't worry. I'm up to it...now what was it that you wanted to ask me?”

They carried in the groceries and put them away. Mitchell had gotten a large frozen chicken potpie for dinner. Anders helped prepare the salad, feeling very domestic. He was starting to understand what Ty got out of a relationship. There was a lot to be said for working together to create something even if it was only supper. He happily sliced the capsicum that Mitchell insisted on calling “green pepper” for some reason. He would have had it done ages ago except that the silly Irishman kept interrupting him for kisses. Domesticity was turning out to be more fun than he'd imagined.

Bedtime turned out to be domestic too. He finally had to admit that the lunch had been stressful and he was wiped. He didn't want to admit it but it was obvious when he fell asleep on the sofa in the crook of Mitchell's arm. He woke when he found himself being lifted and carried into the bedroom. 

“Planning to have your way with me?” he inquired sleepily.

“Yes, if that includes getting you ready for bed and tucking you in,” the Irishman replied, gently setting him on the side of the bed. He kissed the god and then proceeded to undress him slowly and gently. When Anders was down to his boxer-briefs he was laid back and tucked in. He watched in sleepy fascination as Mitchell quickly stripped and then turned off the light.

“It's not fair, you know,” the blond murmured.

“What's not fair?” Mitchell leaned over and kissed his shoulder.

“That you can see in the dark and I can't.”

“You think too much. Go to sleep, boyfriend.” He gathered Anders into his arms and held him as he fell asleep.

For Mitchell sleep didn't come until much later. He was getting hungry. It always started as a gnawing deep inside as if a little mouse was nibbling away at a part of him that was supposed to be hidden. Soon that mouse would grow into a rat and it would only get worse. There was a lot of speculation as to the cause of vampirism, from being a parasite to out and out black magic. The truth was that no one knew. They only knew that as long as they existed they were slaves to the need for blood. And that blood had to come from a living donor. Dead blood from blood banks was no good, there was something missing, call it “life” if you will. But whatever it was made all the difference. The species they consumed it from made a difference too. Animal blood worked for only a short time. Whatever caused the need for blood preferred humans. Vampires had been around as long as humans, so maybe whatever drove the hunger had evolved to prefer the prey that was easiest to catch.

After Anders' breathing deepened and his body went limp, the vampire slowly slid his arm out from under him and silently walked into the living room. He kicked on the laptop and went back to his search that had been interrupted when Anders called him to go shopping. 

The web site opened black with red dripping down to suggest blood. Shibboleth finally appeared in fanciful gothic lettering. How appropriate, since the term is used to define an “in-group.” These people definitely considered themselves to be the in-group while coming across to the rest of the population as a collection of freaks and weirdos. Having had that thought, he idly pondered which one of those best described him, while he continued to peruse the page. The rest of the site showed him that the club was into heavy fetish. While the site stressed that everything was for “entertainment only” and that no sex was allowed he knew that there would be hidden rooms where consensual adult activities occurred, with the police turning a blind eye unless there was a complaint. It was best to keep the freaks and weirdos in one spot and off the streets. 

Mitchell looked at the web site for a minute more, memorizing the address. He knew that no matter how he hated it, he had to feed soon. If he let the hunger get out of control he would kill and then he would have to abandon Anders and the life he was building here. This was his last chance. He knew it in his heart. If he failed here he needed to end himself before he could hurt anyone else. He was always seeking forgiveness, absolution for his crimes, but absolution could not be given--it had to be earned.

Tears welled in his eyes and spilled slowly down his face. He had always been an easy crier and never a neat one. He dug his knuckles into his eyes harder than necessary, punishing himself for daring to weep for his own soul. He was good at feeling sorry for himself and shite at feeling it for others. He lied and twisted the truth to his own ends to justify the trail of death he’d left behind over the decades. Beneath his easy smile and twinkling eyes the self-hatred always lurked like a snake ready to strike. When it did, he could justify anything because he was already damned so his actions didn’t matter.

He balled his fist until his nails dug into his palm. He mum had always said that getting angry at yourself was pointless. If you did something that bad, best try to make up for it rather than get upset. Don’t cry about your mistakes, she’d said…fix them.

He raked his hands through his hair leaving a tiny smudge of blood on his temple. Go to the goth club, do what he needed to do and return home.

Home.

Where was home? Was it here with Anders? Was it back in Bristol? Was it in any of the myriad apartments or houses he’d lived in? Bristol with Annie and George was the closest he’d come since Josie. He’d known he couldn’t last with her, she of the bright eyes and sweet smile. She’d been too good for a stone killer even if he could never have harmed her. If she was too good, what did that make Anders?

He couldn’t twist his brain around it. Grabbing up his cigarettes he went out on the steps to smoke and look at the stars. There was too much light to see very many of them, but he knew they were not the same stars that shone over Bristol. For some reason that made him feel very sad, as though he’d given up something precious.

He heard the door slide open behind him, but he didn’t turn around. Anders sat down next to him, took his cigarette for a drag and then gave it back. Unexpectedly the afghan from the bed was draped across his shoulders. The god leaned against him and he slid his arm around his boyfriend, pulling him close, along with the spread.

“Thinking deep thoughts?” The whispered question made him smile just a little.

“Sort of. It’s nothing for you to worry about. I’ve got it sorted.” 

“It must be important to drive you out in the middle of the night to sit your ass on a freezing step and look at the stars.” Anders's voice was soft and tense with concern. He wasn't buying that Mitchell had anything sorted. 

The Irishman turned an kissed Anders lightly. “Some things I just have to work out for myself.”

“I know and I'm trying not to pry, but I've never done this relationship thing before and I'm still getting a feel for how it works.”

Mitchell's chuckle was low and Anders felt it as much as heard it. “You're doing just fine.”

“Would you come back in with me? My balls are freezing.” The god paused. “No really. I think they’re trying to crawl back inside.”

Mitchell laughed out loud and stood up, assisting Anders as he rose. “Let's go warm them up shall we?”

Anders flipped on the light in the bedroom and left Mitchell straightening the covers while he used the toilet. He came out and was about to say something cheeky about cold and size when he spotted the streak of blood on the vampire's temple. He was next to him in an instant pulling his hair back and looking for a cut.

“What's the matter with you?” Mitchell said, swatting his hand away.

“You have blood on your face,” came the reply. “Did you fall?”

“No, of course not. I...” His voice trailed off when he held up his right hand and saw the half-moon cuts on his palm. 

Anders grabbed his hand and looked a the scabbed cuts. “Did you do this to yourself on purpose?”

“What? No. Fuck no! I didn't even know I did it until just now. It didn't hurt.” He was looking at his palm in shock. He hadn't intended to hurt himself. Shit, now he'd upset Anders.

Anders practically dragged Mitchell into the toilet and washed his hand in cool water. The vampire jerked when the water stung. “Thanks, now it hurts.”

Anders made a face at him and gently dried his hand, dabbing on some antibiotic cream even though Mitchell assured him that he didn't get infections. “It will be healed by morning,” he protested as his boyfriend tried to figure out how to put four Band-Aids on his hand.

Giving up on the logistics he let Mitchell have his hand back and stood there looking up at him. Anders could get very serious and this was one of his moments. His huge blue eyes were troubled and his lips tight. “Something's wrong and you aren't telling me what it is.”

Mitchell walked in and sat on the edge of the bed. Anders joined him and turned so that he faced the Irishman. “Why won't you talk to me?'

The vampire bowed his head, letting his hair spill forward to his eyes. He was using his curls as a wall to shut Anders out. There were some things that he wasn't ready to talk about, if he would ever be. ”Leave it alone, okay?”

“I can't. I find your face smeared with blood because you've dug bloody holes into your own hands. When something is that bad it scares me.” He brushed the curls back so that he could see his his eyes. “I've just found you. I can't lose you, Mitchell.”

“You won't lose me. I promise. I just have something I have to work out, that's all.” He could feel his eyes misting and blinked hard. He tried to smile, but it wasn't very successful.

The god sat with his shoulders slumped. He knew what was wrong and had no idea how to help, or even to bring it up. The need for blood was one thing that Mitchell had never mentioned. It might come up as a joke but the deed was something private. 

Mitchell reached out and pulled Anders into an embrace. “You have to trust me to work things out for myself. I would never do anything to jeopardize what we have.”

Anders allowed himself to be hugged but found scant comfort this time. His shoulders remained stiff and Mitchell released him. “Please don’t worry about me, babe.” 

He looked so sad that the god nearly relented. Anders wanted to believe in the Irishman but Mitchell was a vampire for fuck’s sake. He had even less understanding of how that was possible than he did of the lightning bolt that blasted Bragi into his brain when he was 21. He looked it up online and wished he hadn’t. The man who was trying to reassure him was an animated corpse. That was a fact. That he willingly had sex...no...made love with this man was also a fact. How the hell that was even possible eluded him and he’d had no interest in trying to research the mechanics of it.

Anders looked up, his face drawn, eyes grey with stress. “I’m worried about _me_ , Mitchell. I’m a selfish, self-serving fuck and I’m worried about myself. I’ve never let anyone into my life before and yet here you are. I don’t trust myself, let alone anyone else. You’re asking me to trust you and I don’t know if I can do that.”

The Irishman sat there looking stricken. His eyes brimmed with unshed tears and for a moment he didn’t trust himself to speak. At one point or another, he’d let down everyone who trusted him. He had the charm and looks to make apologies and second chances work. Anders had been betrayed by everyone he cared about. He didn’t think the god was likely to give him a second chance. What a shit couple they were--a match made in Hell. 

“I...I’m doing my best to figure things out, okay?” He licked his lips nervously. I have to get some things in place over here, that’s all.”

“Like blood?” Anders couldn’t look at him.

“Yeah. Look, you don’t want to see me try to withdraw. I can’t. I’ve tried.” The tears spilled now, streaking his face to glisten in the light from the bathroom. “I really tried, but it’s what keeps me alive. This thing that lives in me doesn’t want to die and will make me do whatever I have to do to feed it. 

“How soon?” Even Anders was surprised at how raw his voice sounded.

“Saturday. I don't dare wait any longer than that.” Mitchell's voice was shaky. He felt as if he was a young boy back in church confessing a mortal sin. His cheeks burned with as much blush as he was capable of. He was so ashamed that he bent nearly double and hid his face in his hands. He choked back the tears. Who was he crying for anyway; himself, or Anders, or that poor deluded soldier who died in the trench in France so long ago in the hope it would save his men. 

The god got up and walked into the kitchen. Pulling the bottle from the freezer, he splashed three fingers into a glass and threw it back. The moment the vodka burned across his tongue he knew he didn't want it. He spat into the sink and dumped the rest down the drain. Fuck, he couldn't even drink away the pain.

He was standing there resting his head against the refrigerator door when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Please come back to bed. You have a big meeting coming up.” Mitchell's voice was soft and sounded as if he'd been crying. “I'm sorry I upset you. We will talk this out tomorrow. Now come back to bed. Please?”

Anders turned and the moment he looked at Mitchell he lost it, falling into his arms sobbing. He buried his face into the taller man's chest and let himself be held and comforted. He knew that he was pitiful, he'd had it pointed out to him enough times, but he couldn't stop crying.

The Irishman bent and kissed his hair and then his ear, pausing to whisper, “I'm not going anywhere, I promise. We'll work this out. We'll do it together. No secrets. I promise.” Another kiss. “Do you believe me?”

The response was a tiny nod that Mitchell could barely feel against his chest. Anders leaned into the vampire and the strong arms that held him even closer while kisses were pressed into his hair. He didn't protest when he was lifted and carried into the bedroom. Mitchell laid him gently on the bed and then curled up next to him. The two men cuddled, Anders' head on the Irishman's arm, their legs woven together. The vampire's skin was chilled and the god reached up, pulling the covers closer around them. Wrapped together, they lay quietly neither of them speaking until they drifted off to sleep.


	10. Shattering The Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The illusion is no more. The smoke has dissipated, the mirrors shattered, their shards falling to reflect the rainbow that is the reality of Anders' life.

Anders woke Mitchell with warm hands sliding over sleepy flesh, waking to blazing heat. The Irishman was almost instantly hard, his breath coming fast between his teeth before he was completely awake. His partner had woken him by taking his cock deep between his lips and was sucking hard. He reached down and ran his fingers through the god's soft waves. It felt so incredibly good that he couldn't move—all he could do was feel.

“Come up here and let's do this together,” he suggested.

The blond ignored him. Questing hands cupped and stroked, holding delicate testicles captive, rolling them gently, massaging the sensitive flesh, sending tingles racing up and down Mitchell's cock. He shivered with the pleasure and slid his hands over his partner's shoulders and down his arms, wanting as much connection as he could get. He moaned softly, his sounds echoed by the god, muffled and nearly inaudible.

He wanted to reciprocate, but it was obvious that Anders was running this show and that all he was going to be allowed to do was lay back and receive. So Mitchell stretched and positioned himself so that he could easily be reached. He let his mind drift and rode the waves of pleasure that washed over him. 

He felt Anders adjust his position and reached down again, finding a lower back and rump under his hand. Slowly he feathered his palm downward, down the muscular thigh and then inward to find an unattended erection within reach. Smiling, he wrapped long cool fingers around it and almost immediately the blond thrust forward into the tight ring of Mitchell's fingers. The vampire held steady and let Anders fuck his hand, alternating pressures and moving as much as he could. The sounds that floated up from that area of the bed assured him that he was doing just fine.

When Anders took him deeply into his throat and sucked hard, his other hand stroking deeply in synch, Mitchell arched up hard, his muscles clenching as he pumped long strings of come into the god's waiting mouth. He cried out as he peaked, his voice filling the bedroom. As the vampire orgasmed it sent the god over the edge and he slammed himself into the strong fingers that surrounded him and shot hard and long against his partner's forearm. 

They froze like that for a long moment, just suspended in the pleasure of receiving and giving. As Mitchell's erection softened, Anders reluctantly let it slip from between his lips. It felt like he was losing a part of Mitchell and he made a tiny noise of regret. Hearing him, Mitchell sat up and pulled the blond against him, smearing them both with the results of his orgasm. 

They both froze at the same instant and then burst out laughing. Mitchell hugged Anders tighter making it worse and making them laugh even harder. Leaning in, the god gave him a big, juicy, slick kiss that set them off again. 

“We're disgusting,” the vampire said between giggles.

“Revolting!” Anders agreed and tried to kiss him again, but was successfully fended off. “Hey, don't push me away...it's yours...”

“That doesn't mean I want a facial,” Mitchell protested using his pillow to block the onslaught.

Anders fell backward on the bed and lay there naked and shaking with laughter. “They'll lock us up.”

Mitchell rolled over and slid between his partner's legs, pinning him. He grinned at him chocolate eyes sparkling. “As long as they lock us up together.” He leaned down and claimed Anders' lips in a long sensuous kiss that left them both breathless. 

The blond finally slapped Mitchell's fine ass. “Ger'offa me you brute. I have to shower and get into the office. I have an important meeting.”

“Not until this afternoon.” The Irishman nudged his rapidly stiffening cock against Anders. 

“Nope. Can't go in with fish lips and beard burn. I actually have some work to do, you horny heathen.” He gave Mitchell a quick kiss and then pushed him. “So get up and fix me some breakfast. As the breadwinner I demand to be fed.”

Mitchell's brows lowered. “Fuck you!”

“Tonight, you sexy Irish stallion. But I remember you saying that I needed nutritious food, so wipe yourself down and go make me some.”

Mitchell got a pained look. “It's unfair to use my words against me.”

Anders grinned. “I fight with whatever weapons I can get. You might want to remember that.”

Rolling off and sitting up on the edge of the bed, Mitchell looked over his shoulder at his grinning god. “Remember, I can fight dirty too.” He made a lunge for Anders, but the blond did a neat roll out of bed and vanished into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Chuckling, the Irishman went to the half-bath and washed up, then went in search of sustenance.

* * * 

Anders carefully went over the contract that Mason West of Mason West Estates had signed. Yes, every i was dotted and every t was crossed. That was two new contracts in three days. He’d gotten his mojo back. JPR wasn’t going down like the Titanic. It had hit the iceberg and bounced. He sat back smiling to himself. He was well aware that, while the selling and negotiating were solely up to him, the motivation came from a certain curly-haired Irishman who was home probably watching cooking shows. 

He laughed out loud. He was shacking up with a freaking vampire who was bucking to be the next Julia Child. 

“Did you say something?” Dawn called from the front of the office.

“No. Just laughing,” was the response.

“Care to share the joke?” She came over to stand in the door, looking expectant. 

“Mitchell’s gotten hooked on cooking shows.” 

She giggled and then put a hand over her mouth. “What?”

He looked at her archly. “Apparently someone told him that I need good nutrition.”

Leaning against the doorjamb, she smiled, blushing just a little. “Well, you have lost some weight and it is doctor’s orders.”

“But he wants to make ‘real Kiwi food’ and I’m afraid that he’s going to feed me one of those horrible Maori dishes they foist off on tourists.” He looked up at her a small frown creeping across his forehead. “I’m not Aragorn. I don’t think I can just smile and eat it.”

Dawn burst out laughing. “I really don’t think he’s likely to try to serve you horrible stew or even huahua grubs.”

“Christ, I hope not. I was at a party once where they were daring each other to eat them. Of course I didn’t want to be a puss, so I manned up and then had to go and puke.” He looked up at her, his eyes wide. “Dawn, there isn’t enough vodka in the world to take that taste out of your mouth.”

She was still laughing when the door opened and Ty came in. He usually radiated energy and good nature, but now he looked at Anders with a steely expression and stayed on Dawn's side of the room. She turned to smile at him. “Mitchell has taken up cooking and your brother was just saying that he hopes some of our native dishes don’t end up on the menu.”

“So he cooks.” 

“You could call it that,” Anders replied flatly, the humor vanishing from the conversation.

Dawn looked back and forth between them, her green eyes gone sad. She reached out and touched Ty's arm. “Please don't be like that.”

His head bowed for a moment. He would walk across hot coals before making her unhappy. “Sorry. It's been a kinda rough day.”

He looked past her at Anders. “Oh yeah. I remember you telling me about your huahua adventure.” He grinned wickedly. “Maybe I should drop a dime and make a menu suggestion.” He ducked the wad of paper that flew by his head. “Or maybe not…”

* * * 

Anders opened the door to his condo and the smell of something wonderful cooking stopped him dead. Could that aroma really be coming from the room that until now had only produced food that came out of the microwave or toaster?

He peeked around the corner and saw Mitchell staring at a frying pan with frightening intensity. Whatever was in there had better behave itself or the wrath of the most dangerous vampire in Bristol was going to descend upon it. He watched in fascination as Mitchell picked up half a lemon, in mercifully gloveless hands, and squeezed the juice carefully over the contents. As the juice turned to steam the contents smelled even better, if that was possible.

“What are we having?”

The Irishman noticed him for the first time. He looked up and smiled. “Lemon and Oregano Chicken. It’s easy and sounded good. We also have baked potatoes, which are nearly done, and broccoli.”

“Sounds good...almost as good as you look.” Anders gave Mitchell a slow smile and licked his bottom lip, catching it between his teeth.

The vampire threw back his head and burst out laughing. “You're a tease. If you like sweaty, stressed blokes, then I guess I'm your man. But I'm too busy right now to do anything about that hint you just dropped. Not if you don't want blackened chicken.” He nodded toward the bedroom. “Why don't you go change? The food will be done by the time you get back out here.”

“Awesome idea, but I demand a kiss.” He rose up and gave his boyfriend a peck before heading back to the bedroom humming to himself. 

He'd hung his suit up and was sliding into his black and silver sweats when his mobile rang. Before he could answer Mike's voice cut him off.

“Be at the bar at seven.” He hung up.

Anders stood there staring at the phone in his hand, resisting the urge to launch it across the room. What the fuck?!

He pressed the call-back button. When Mike answered he quietly said, “No. Go fuck yourself.” He turned the phone off and laid it on the dresser. Screw him and his mandates. He was done being pushed around by that asshole. 

He came out of the bedroom as the land-line started to ring. “Don't answer that,” he said firmly. “It's Mike throwing his weight around. I'm done with it. I just want to have a quiet dinner with you and maybe watch a movie.”

Mitchell looked up from setting the table. ”Is he upset about me?”

“I have no idea. Everything I do pisses him off.” He gave the Irishman a reassuring smile. “It doesn't matter what's chafing his balls this time. I'm done with this family. All they do is give me shit, then ask for my help.” 

He slid into his chair and looked at the salad Mitchell had placed in front of him. He looked up at him and smiled warmly. “I'm having the most amazing life and I don't need him in it, pissing on my floor.”

The Irishman stepped behind Anders' chair and slid his arms around his shoulders, nuzzling into the back of his neck. “I don't want to argue with him, but I'm not going to let him ruin what we have. It's for us to figure this out on our own.”

“Damn straight,”Anders agreed, cuddling back. 

Dinner was excellent. Both of them proclaimed the chicken recipe to be a keeper. Mitchell blushed a little at the compliments the god showered on him. Maybe he'd have learned to cook when Annie tried to teach him if the rewards had been this good. 

“Don't get too used to it, babe. My papers to let me look for work should be here soon and I have no idea what shifts I'll be working.”

“You're not going to apply to be a cleaner again, are you?”

“It's what I know and I'm good at it,” Mitchell replied. “To be honest, it's the only job I've had. I wasn't exactly employable while I was running with Herrick.” 

Anders was quiet for a moment. He could see the change in his partner when Herrick was mentioned. “Someday you will have to tell me more about those days.”

Mitchell quickly shook his head. “I don't want to remember them. They happened to someone else...someone I look back and don't even recognize. I'm trying to get back the Mitchell I was. The man I used to be in Dublin before the world went mad. He's the only man I want you to know.”

The blond shook his head. “You and I aren't just two mates, we're more and we both have left a trail of shit behind us. Yours may be longer, but I'm not sure it's any more shameful. You don't have to tell me the stories. But remember, I've seen you in action. I know what you are. You have to make peace with the fact that I know and I'm okay with it. The past is gone, but we have to be able to be ourselves in the present and not be ashamed.”

Mitchell's eyes were a warm deep-amber, his lips curved in a gentle smile. “Are you sure Bragi isn't the one talking?”

“No, it's just me, the Kiwi arsehole. I'm in PR and you know that, Irish or not, we all have to kiss the Blarney Stone before we can get our certification.” 

Mitchell laughed and scooped him up for a kiss. He was working his way down Anders's neck when his phone rang. He answered it an found a surly Mike on the other end.

“Put Anders on and tell him to turn his fucking phone on,” Mike snapped.

“No and no,” Mitchell replied cooly. 

“Then tell him that he'd had better be at the meeting at seven. “ _Alone._ ”

The vampire took a breath and then quietly stated, “We will _both_ be there.” He hung up and then walked back to the table. Without a word he started to pick the dishes.

Anders sat there with an _Oh shit!_ look in his eyes. Mitchell smiled and said, “It's time I met the family, yeah?”

* * * 

The drive to Mike's bar was more than a little tense. Mitchell was trying not to project how the meeting would go so that he could just roll with whatever came his way. Anders’ hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel.

“Remember when we first met how I said that my life was “smoke and mirrors?”

Mitchell nodded. “I remember.”

“Well, just think of tonight as shattering the mirrors. Tonight they are going to get a look at the real Anders and I don't think it's going to go over very well. Be careful no to get cut on the shards. 

The vampire reached over and squeezed his hand. “Mirrors aren't my favorite things anyway, babe. They don't always reflect the truth. People see what they want to see. It will take more than a shattering the mirror that they see you in for them to know the real Anders.”

Anders lifted the Irishman's hand and kissed his knuckles before releasing his hand. “I'll remember that. I've always felt like an illusion.” 

“Not any more. I think the time for illusions is past.”

Anders drove in silence for several blocks and then abruptly said, “Promise me you won't kill anyone, Mitchell.” His voice was tight and higher pitched than normal. “Promise me.”

The vampire turned to look at him and laid a hand gently on his. “Babe, I have no intention of killing anyone, or even hurting anyone, although I might have to scare someone.”

“Can you scare Mike?” Anders was suddenly interested. “Can you scare him so bad he pisses himself?”

Mitchell laughed and shook his head. “I can't promise that, you egg. Ten seconds ago you were worried I'd rip someone's head off and drink them dry and now you want me to scare the piss out of Mike.”

Anders grinned wickedly. “So sue me. I owe him one. Hell, I owe him a dozen. You can't blame me for trying to collect.”

The Irishman reached over and ruffled his hair. “Just stop trying to collect on my dime.”

They walked into the bar with Mitchell following Anders. They stopped just inside and stood there looking as calm as possible. The Irishman had changed into black jeans and a rather ghastly aqua and lavender plaid shirt on the theory that it's difficult to look deadly wearing aqua and lavender. But as Anders pointed out with a smirk...it is possible to look gay which might not go over so good either. He, in turn, left on his black and grey sweats on the theory that blood would come out of them easier, or at least be less noticeable.

The family was gathered including, of course, Michele who was looking at Mitchell with a frankness that he found disconcerting. For a goddess of love she gave off the aura of a predator. She moved to stand next to Mike and ran her fingers down his arm, but her look told him that sooner or later she would make a play for the vampire.

Mike fixed them both with an angry glare. “Anders, I told you that you were to come alone.”

“And I told you that I was not coming.” Anders looked at Mitchell who was regarding his brother impassively. “It was Mitchell's decision to come. Since he will be the topic of conversation it's only right that he be here.”

Mike ignored him and looked at Mitchell. “Leave. This is a family meeting.”

Mitchell did not blink. “Not without Anders.”

Mike started around the bar, his attention focused on the vampire. “Didn't you hear me? This is a family meeting. Anders stays – you leave. Get the fuck out!”

“No.”

Mitchell stood quietly, legs spread slightly, arms folded across his chest. His face was unreadable. He was close enough to Anders to feel his body heat. This was where he intended to stay.

“Anders, tell your fuck-buddy to get his ass out of my bar before I throw him out.” Mike's eyes were glowing green, Ullr rising to take control. He glared at his brother, the threat all too apparent. Mike had never hesitated to use violence against Anders and he wouldn't hesitate now.

Mitchell gently put a hand on the god's shoulder and stepped in front of him, shielding him from his brother. Anders relaxed just a little. For the first time in his life he had no fear of Mike and it felt good. He grinned, infuriating Mike who advanced on Mitchell.

They stood facing each other, two top predators, each ready to defend what was theirs. Mike took a step forward and raised his fist. Mitchell's eyes bled to black, he opened his mouth widely to accommodate the fangs that snicked neatly into place. He leaned down into Mike's face and hissed.

Mike's went white, his battle stance wavering. Axl sprang forward, his chair clattering across the room. Olaf was fast behind and the three of them faced the vampire, muscles tensed, ready for battle. Ty tried to come around them to get close to the vampire, but Anders moved quickly and grabbed his arm, shoving him backward. He let go instantly as the frost on Ty's skin bit into his palm, but kept himself between his brother and Mitchell, trusting that Ty wouldn't try to hurt him to get to the vampire unless he need to.

“He's not going to hurt anyone, you idiot,” Anders snapped, his breath condensing into clouds as his brother's temper chilled the air around them. “If he wanted them dead he could have killed them before you could blink.” Ty backed off but stood with his muscles tensed, ready to take on the vampire if he had to.

It was a standoff with the men facing one another, none of them ready to give ground lest it give an advantage. Mitchell stood vamp still, not blinking, ready to meet any threat. His eyes were ebony, their shiny surface reflecting the faces of the angry men in front of him. Michele stayed behind the bar, eyes wide, her hands shaking.

Mitchell's expression didn't change. “You. Don't. Want. To. Do. This.”

“Get the fuck out.” Mike's voice was low and strained. He felt as if he were looking death itself in the face. 

Unblinking, the vampire faced him, ignoring the other two. “Stand. Down.” His voice was almost a purr, rich with the tones of Dublin. “Stand down, or I will take you down.”

The standoff seemed to last forever. Finally Anders lost his temper. “If you three morons would step back this would be over.”

They ignored him, so he walked between the vampire and Mike and stood there facing his brother. “Back up, Mitchell, they are too stupid to listen.”

The vampire took two steps backward and closed his mouth as his fangs retracted. He blinked and his eyes returned to normal. He was still tense and laid a protective hand on Anders' shoulder. His voice was soft and offered no threat. 

He looked past Anders at his family. “We're done here. Go sit down.” 

No one moved.

Anders shook his head. Was he really related to these idiots? “You heard him. Sit down and try to act civilized for once in your lives.”

Mike glared at him. “You need to watch your fucking mouth, Anders.”

“And you need to watch yours. I'm done being your punching bag. You don't like me anyway, so leave me the fuck alone and let me live my life. Stop dragging me to these fucking meetings. I'm only a part of this family when you need something anyway.”

“You're pretty brave now that you have a guard dog.” Mike looked at the vampire's hand on Anders' shoulder and sneered.

The blond shook his head. “He's my friend, which is more than I can say for any of you.”

Mike turned to go, but stopped halfway back to the bar. “He's a vampire, Anders.”

“Yeah and I'm a fucking god and so are you. The world is a big bad scary place. There are also werewolves and ghosts who make tea. The things that go bump in the night can do more than make the room slightly colder or start forest fires. You want to be careful about pissing them off.” 

Axl scowled. “He's dangerous, Anders.”

His brother snorted in derision. “So is a psychotic pyromaniac, or my dear brother Ty who freezes anyone he touches. At least Mitchell can have sex with someone without accidentally killing them.” He ignored Ty's wince at that reminder and moved to stand next to the Irishman. “Also like us, he didn't ask for this to happen to him, but he's making the best of it.” 

He took Mitchell's hand and stood looking at his family. “I assume you hauled me down here to abuse me and tell me that I'm a pervert and an idiot. I already know what I am. Years ago Mike made the pervert part very clear with his fists when I tried to talk to him about.” He looked sadly at his older brother. 

“I was only fourteen, Mike and I was so confused, but I guess you thought that beating me up and then telling that piece of shit that passed as our father was a good idea. You'll be happy to know that he beat me so bad I passed out. But I never mentioned it again, did I?”

Mike winced, his gaze lowering. He suddenly looked decades older and very tired. “I'm sorry, Anders. I was just a kid too.”

“Yeah, that's always your excuse—‘I didn't know any better’. How many times have you told me that over the years when I remind you of the shit you let happen to me? I was there to protect Ty, but where the fuck were you? Who protected me?” He was so angry he was shaking. Mitchell slid his arm around Anders shoulders. It was obvious who protected Anders now.

He looked up at Mitchell whose face had softened. “I finally found someone who cares about me. I'm finding out who I am and what I am. I can't stay in that box you've all shoved me into, it doesn't fit.”

Olaf put his hand up, “Chill out, no one here cares if you sleep with dudes. Right?” He looked around and then frowned. “Man, did I trip back into the seventies?” They all looked abashed and the tension began to break.

Anders’ grandfather walked over to them and look at Mitchell. “You sure you're not, like, hungry?”

The vampire chuckled. “No, I'm not hungry. I'd say you have a bigger case of munchies than I do right now.”

The oracle laughed. “You are so right.” He held out his hand. “Olaf Johnson, I'm Baldr, the family oracle and god of rejuvenation.”

The Irishman shook his hand and smiled. “John Mitchell, the family vampire.”

Olaf laughed again. “I like you. You don't take any shit and gods know this lot can dish it out. Come on in. Sit down and have a drink.”

He turned to Mike. “Show some hospitality to your brother's boyfriend and get us all a beer.”

Mike made a face, but he obeyed out of respect. “Sure, Grandpa. Coming up.”

The oracle grinned. “Let's get out of Ty's air conditioning and have a seat.” He walked past Axl and pulled some chairs out. Flopping down he looked at Mike with a ‘where's my beer?’ expression.

Mitchell followed Anders, taking a seat next to him closer to the bar, putting himself between Mike and the blond. The seating arrangement wasn't lost on anyone. It would be a while before Mike was likely to feel free to take another swing at his brother.

Olaf took a long pull on his beer. “So what brings you to New Zealand's sunny shores?”

“I got a call from Dawn that a friend of mine was in trouble,” Mitchell replied. 

“So you just came on down?”

“Something like that.” The vampire took a sip of his beer and tried to relax.

“Are you staying?” This from Axl behind him.

“I don't know yet.” Mitchell looked at Anders. “That all depends on your brother.”

Olaf finished his beer and was feeling even more mellow. “So are you two a...couple?”

“I don't know,” Anders quickly responded. Then he looked at the Irishman who smiled fondly at him.

“We're working on it,” Mitchell told him. “Taking each day one at a time.”

He raised his beer and the oracle noticed his fingerless gloves. “What with the weird gloves?”

Mitchell had forgotten he was wearing them. “I get cold.”

“So wouldn't ones with fingers help a lot more?”

“Not really. When I was a kid the knuckles on my left hand were crushed and it never healed right. It bothers me when it gets too cold.” He flexed his hand and smiled at Olaf.

“I thought you healed when you changed.” That came from Axl behind them.

“No. That's a werewolf you're thinking of. My flatmate back in Bristol is one and it's about the only perk that comes with it.” The vampire smiled at Axl's expression and took another sip of beer. Olaf was grinning. Tonight was turning out to be more educational than he'd planned. Also more entertaining.

Ty came over, pulled up a chair at the head of the table and sat down slowly. “Dawn thinks you walk on water, Mitchell. I have to admit my idiot brother's looking a lot better than he has for awhile.” He ignored his older brother who frowned and flipped him the bird.

Mitchell gave an embarrassed little smile. “She's very special. You're a lucky man, Ty.”

“Yeah, I am. I still don't know why she works for my dick of a brother though.” His tone was light, but it didn't reach his eyes. They were hard as he looked over at Anders.

“She likes him, Ty,” Mitchell said quietly. “She says that he's impossible sometimes, but he trusts her and gives her almost complete freedom to run things the way she wants to. She said she's learning a lot and hopes to become a partner one day.” He quickly glanced at Anders to see if he should have said that last part.

Anders grinned. “I wouldn't be adverse to that.” He looked at Ty and took a sip of his beer. “If you can keep that whole Mr. Freezy thing under control and make an honest woman of her, we will still be JPR.”

He leaned toward Ty. “I might Bragi her a little every now and then, but trust me, Bragi can't keep someone from doing something they really want to do. If she wanted to quit she could at any time. I've told her more than once that if she did, I would write her a reference so glowing that she'd have to wear shades to read it.”

“Straight up?” Ty asked.

“Swear to gods. I can't run the place without her and she knows it.” He smiled ruefully. “She's the one who has me over a barrel.” 

Axl had gone over to sit at the bar. He looked at the four of them toasting the idea of Dawn being a partner and frowned. “Isn't anyone concerned that we now have a vampire in New Zealand? I thought he was going to kill me last night. Shit, I thought he was going to kill Mike right here.”

Anders leaned around Mitchell and looked at his little brother. “You came into my home acting like a bully. You attempted to throw Mitchell out just because you didn't want him sleeping with me. You thought he was human and because you're bigger and thought you were stronger you were acting like a first rate prick.”

“He attacked me!” Axl protested.

Anders rose and faced his brother. “He did NOT! Mitchell did the same thing to you that he did here—he showed you what he is and that's _all_ he did. You were the one who backed up and fell over the ottoman. You asked for everything you got. No...you fucking begged for it!”

“I did not!” Axl protested, cringing at how he sounded. He turned to Mike who shrugged and ignored him.

“Have you ever killed anyone?” Mike suddenly asked, his voice harsh and confrontational.

Mitchell gave him a long look. “I was a soldier in World War 1, so the answer is, yes. Any further information is between Anders and me.”

“The fact remains that we now have a vampire living here,” Mike said evenly. “Right now he seems like a nice enough bloke, but what about when he's not being nice?” He sipped his beer and look at Mitchell as if he were some sort of vermin.

The Irishman didn't rise to the insult. “You have always had vampires here.” Mitchell said calmly. “They live in every country and always have. Did you think that just because you don't have corpses littering the streets that my kind aren't here?”

Intrigued, Olaf leaned forward. “Have you met any here yet?”

The Irishman shook his head. “No, but I expect I will soon. We are not common anywhere, so unless you know where to look you won't find them. They don't exactly advertise.”

The oracle thought about it for a moment. “So are they dangerous?”

Mitchell shrugged. “Some are, some aren't, just like humans. Your chances of running into one are pretty slim and your chances of recognizing what you've run into are worse than slim. We don't want to be recognized, it's bad for our health.”

Olaf chuckled. “From the reception you got here I can see why. You seem like an alright dude. You put up with Anders and there's not many people that can do that for long.”

“Grandpa!” 

“Well, if you'd stop being such a cocky little fuck maybe I wouldn't say things like that. If tall, dark and handsome here can chill you the fuck out, I'll give him the keys to the city.” Olaf waved his beer in Mitchell's direction. “You have your hands full with this one. He has a good heart but a mean mouth sometimes.”

“I know...in so many ways...” Mitchell spoke quietly and just let it hang. 

Anders turned beet red. “Mitchell!” 

The vampire sat there with a slight smile, his eyes twinkling, ignoring the kick in the shins Anders gave him. 

It took Olaf about a beat of ten to tip to what he'd just heard. Throwing back his head, he roared with laughter. “Now I know I like you.”

Anders grimaced. “Great now you two can sit around and talk about the _really_ old times. Go ahead, tell him how old you are.”

Mitchell grinned. “I'm 120.”

Olaf laughed. “Well that makes you only 28 years older than I am. What do you think about that?”

“I'd say you're looking pretty good for a geezer. I'd guess that whole rejuvenation thing is working out for you.”

Ty laughed. “I guess I have the only stoner surfer grandpa around. He definitely adds color to the family.”

Olaf jerked a thumb at his grandson. “And never forget to take Ty if you're going on a picnic and you'll never drink warm beer again.” They all laughed, even Mike. 

Mike was leaning against the bar and his grandfather turned and gave him a hard look. “Why don't you stop acting like something crawled up your ass and come over and introduce yourself?”

“He's a vampire, Grandpa.”

“I didn't bring you up to be racist, Mikkel,” Olaf shot back.

Mike sighed. “You didn't bring me up at all—you were too busy surfing and getting laid.” But his grandfather had that determined expression and he knew he'd get no peace.

He walked over to the table and held out his hand. “We got off to a bad start. I'm Mike, Ullr, god of the hunt and games.”

“He can't lose,”Axl volunteered. “He doesn't gamble, but if he did they'd have to close the casinos.”

“That must be one hell of a handy talent to have,” the vampire observed as he shook Mike's hand.

Mike cocked his head, halfway to a grin. “Oh, you have no idea.”

He nodded toward Axl. “This is Axl, He's the baby of the family. He's also Odin, the All Father.”

The vampire turned and looked at him. “So the youngest is the most important.” His smile was slow and warm. “I'm sure that irony isn't lost on you.”

Axl smiled a little. “I'm still not sure what good it is. Everyone still ignores me. I don't have any cool powers and if I get killed we all die. Yeah, I'm not feeling like I got the best deal.”

Ty flipped him a bird. “Try mine for a while, shithead.”

Everyone cracked up and the atmosphere lightened.

Olaf motioned to Mike to pull up a chair. Michele, not wanting to be left out came over as well. She sat on Mitchell's side of the table and ran her eyes over him. She liked the curls and the dark eyes. She wasn't as fond of his choice of shirt.

“It's a bit gay, isn't it?” she said, tugging at the collar.

He nodded. “That's the whole idea. Walking in here dressed in black leather seemed counterproductive.”

She brightened. “Oh, you have black leather?”

Anders nearly spit his drink on the table and dissolved into a fit of giggles. “No, leather. Sorry I really am much more of a plaid bloke.” Mitchell wasn't smiling, but his eyes were twinkling with mischief.

“Are you really gay?” She was openly flirting and Mike was getting annoyed. 

He looked over at Anders and smiled softly. “Yes, I really am.” He reached over and laid his hand lightly on top of the god's, completely missing her pout.

Dismissed, Michele went to the bar and poured herself another drink.

Olaf laughed. “Congratulations on knowing how to handle that one.” he winked at his oldest grandson. “She's a tigress, but Mike can handle her.”

A rich less-than-feminine “fuck you” came from the direction of the bar. Amid the laughter, Mike got up and went over to slide his arms around her. 

“I think all of my grandsons have chosen well.” Olaf stood up and proposed a toast. “To the New Asgardians and their mates.”

The rest of the evening consisted of drinking and talking and really bad jokes. Anders was proud that he'd limited himself to three beers. He'd had so little in the last week that even that amount of alcohol make him a little tipsy. Since he was a happy drunk he'd even managed to be nice to Mike. He'd helped Mitchell avoid personal questions until his family finally got the idea that fascinating though a vampire might be, he was not going to talk about his past. Even Axl lightened up. After all how many blokes could say they spent the evening drinking with a vampire? 

It wasn’t until they got back to the condo that Anders realized how tired he was. He felt older than Grandpa and Mitchell combined. As soon as they were in the door he slid his arms around his partner’s shoulders and smiled up at him.

“Thank you.” He felt like he couldn’t say it often enough. For the first time he’d felt safe. For the first time he’d felt loved. Mitchell just gathered him up and held him close. The family meeting had been an eye-opener. He had no doubt that Anders would have been assaulted verbally, if not physically had he not stayed. They obviously loved each other, but their method of showing it was amazingly dysfunctional. They were like planets, each in their own orbit, not interacting except by collision. 

Mitchell kissed him tenderly and the spoiled it with “Let’s go to bed, babe,” he whispered. “I’m exhausted.” Anders nodded, his head still pressed against the Irishman's chest. 

Hand-in-hand they walked into the bedroom, stripped quickly and collapsed into bed in a tangle of arms and legs, wanting to be close, but too tired to be graceful about it. Even Mitchell who didn't need to sleep was exhausted. Family “things” were definitely stressful. His last thoughts were wondering if he'd ever really be accepted by anyone besides Anders and Olaf.

Anders snuggled into his arms awake only enough to mumble happily, “You hissed at Mike. You actually did the horror movie thing. That’s going to be my favorite moment evah!”


	11. Standing in Deep Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The water is deep...and cold. The shore is a long way away.

_Strange how I falter_  
To find I'm standing in deep water  
Strange how my heart beats  
To find I'm standing on your shore. 

Anders woke first and slowly rolled onto his side so that he could watch Mitchell sleep. The Irishman’s dark curls fanned out in a silken tumble and he had one arm thrown over his head, the other resting across his abdomen. He was as beautiful as a sculpture and as still.

It took the blond a minute to figure out what was wrong and then he realized that the vampire’s chest was not moving. He had no real need to breathe except to talk and when he slept all movement ceased. It was, quite frankly, like sleeping with a corpse. The thought gave Anders a moment of panic and he nearly bolted from the bed. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he looked at Mitchell again and this time his stillness did not seem so alien. A touch would rouse him. A kiss would arouse him. He was anything but dead. Like Anders, he was a supernatural and didn’t play by the same rules as mortals. It was unfair to judge him by their standards. 

Suddenly Mitchell’s chest expanded with a breath and his eyes fluttered open. He looked over at Anders sleepily and smiled. All thought that this man was anything other than his wonderful boyfriend fled and Anders moved into his outstretched arms. The kiss was slow and sleepy and a bit bad breathy, but sent tingles clear down to the Kiwi’s toes. This was right where he wanted to be. This was perfect.

They nuzzled lazily, Anders cuddling in, wrapping Mitchell with his body to warm him. The mild chill of the vampire's body was something he hardly noticed unless he thought about it. Since he was usually a bit too warm it worked out well when his boyfriend snuggled up to him for warmth. He laid a leg over Mitchell’s and wound a possessive arm around his middle, claiming him. 

“Mmm, you’re so warm and fuzzy. I love it when you drape all over me.” Mitchell’s brogue was always stronger in the morning before he was fully awake. It was gorgeous and the Kiwi had told him that it was so yummy he could eat it with a spoon. 

Anders reached up to gently tweak a nipple. “It’s a good thing I like it when your chilly ass tries to shove me out of bed in the middle of the night like a fucking heat-seeking missile.” 

“I don’t wake you up, do I?” The vampire sounded slightly worried.

“Yeah, but it’s okay, popsicle toes, it reminds me that you are here in bed with me and I will never not like that.”

“Never?”

“Nope.” He burrowed into the crook in Mitchell’s neck and planted a tiny kiss. “Never.”

“You’ve been calling me your ‘boyfriend.’ Was that just for Axl’s benefit?”

“Huh?” His head popped back up where Mitchell could see him. “No. Well, it just sort of slipped out, but it feels right, at least to me.” His brows pulled down a little darkening his eyes. “Does it feel okay to you?”

The Irishman rolled over slightly so that he had better access. A slow sexy smile warmed his face, lighting his eyes into gold and chocolate. “Yeah, it feels right.” He drew his fingers down the side of Anders’ face. “I care a lot about you.”

“Ditto.”

“Okay, Patrick Swayze,” Mitchell chuckled. 

Completely avoiding the reference, Anders grinned. “I never thought I’d ever have a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, for that matter. I just never seemed to make that kind of connection with anyone until you came along.”

“So it’s all my fault?” His fingers teased the line of the blond’s collarbone. 

“Oh, definitely. I was just a nice boy from New Zealand and you corrupted me with your big city ways. Now I’m helpless under your spell.” He batted his big blue eyes and Mitchell laughed for the second or two it took him to move, lean over and claim Anders’ lips in a long slow kiss.

The kiss deepened as their bodies woke and heated. It was Saturday morning and neither of them had to be any place except here in bed with each other. It brought back the carefree feeling of London and they let themselves slide slowly into making love.

Sex was fun. Sex was great. Sex made the world go 'round, but weekends were made for slow-hand. At least that's what Anders was finding out. This was a completely new experience for him and he found that he liked it very much. Usually he hauled out of bed late after having partied the night before, evicted his bed partner, poured a drink and tried to start his day before rinsing and repeating at night. Lying on top of his long cool drink of water boyfriend, being slowly and thoroughly kissed, was certainly a step up.

He moved a little and slid his leg between Mitchell's, rubbing slowly as he did, pressing and tugging at the beginning erection he found, turning it into one that was full blown. Hmm...there was a thought. He started to slide down the bed, but was stopped by strong arms.

“Uh uh, stay up here where I can kiss you,” the Irishman whispered. “I want to look into those incredible eyes and kiss your beautiful mouth.” He kissed the Kiwi lightly. “Has anyone told you that you have the most kissable lips in the world?”

Anders smiled, showing off his dimples. “No. I don't think so.”

“Well, I'm telling you. The shape is perfect and I want to spend some time exploring their perfection.”

This time he laughed. “Are you sure you aren't the one who is Bragi?”

“Nope, I'm Irish and it comes with the territory.” He bit lightly on Anders' lower lip. He let go and his tongue darted out and traced the shape of the god's cupid's bow making his breath catch in his throat. Unconsciously, he ground his hips and they both moaned. Oh this was nice.

Anders experimented with thrusting and rocking, finding a motion and pressure that worked for both of them. Their cocks were trapped together between their bodies, the sensation was both the roughness of body hair and caress of silky skin. It was a unique feeling, very sexy, but not intense enough so that climax would be fast. This would last awhile. 

They shared kisses and touches. Anders rose up on his elbows so that he could look down into Mitchell's eyes and watch the gold around the pupil slowly disappear as the Irishman's lust grew. He found that he loved watching him stretch cat-like, savoring the sensations, letting his body enjoy the pleasure it was receiving. If he’d been a were instead of a vampire, Mitchell would have to be a black panther, sleek, sensual and elegant against Anders’ pale blue sheets.

When their orgasm came it was shared, one triggering the other, sliding against skin that had become slick and hot. They savored the aftershocks and lay bonded, coming down with tiny kisses and nips. Mitchell's eyes slowly returned to chocolate rimmed amber while Anders' became that impossible sky blue shaded by long dark lashes. 

The god laid his head on Mitchell's shoulder, purring quietly to himself as he felt strong arms slide around his and a long leg sling over his to wrap him tightly. He could hear the vampire's heart beating faster, echoing his own. Funny how their rhythm synched when they made love. It was if they had one heart and that heart beat for both of them. 

* * * 

After showers and breakfast, eggs only a little overcooked and bacon done in the oven (thanks to the tip from Dawn,) they settled in for a lazy day, or tried to anyway. The mouse in Mitchell’s stomach had turned into a rat due to the stress of the family ‘thing.’ For the first time Anders saw the Irishman's temper.

Mitchell was wiping down the kitchen counter and accidentally knocked the cookie sheet he’d cooked the bacon in onto the floor. Suddenly there was a barrage of invective, Gaelic mixed with curses in English as he picked up the pan and slammed it into the sink. 

Anders launched himself out of his chair and came skidding to a halt as Mitchell picked up one of the empty Coke cans and crushed it into a small ball that went sailing past his head into the living room. 

“Are you okay?”

Mitchell wheeled, his eyes shaded by furrowed brows making him look like a thunder storm. “Yes, I’m fucking okay. Now leave me the fuck alone to clean up this fucking mess. I don’t need you getting in my way, so piss off!”

The god’s eyes widened. The vampire was furious and when he looked at Anders there was a killing rage behind his eyes. He took a step back and so did Mitchell. He could see the Irishman force his temper to back off. He looked at Anders again, this time with a plea in his eyes. “Go sit down and let me deal with this. I’m okay. I’m just on edge.” 

Anders nodded silently and went back into the living room. He picked up the crumpled Coke can and juggled it on his palm. It was small enough to fit into the hollow, completely compacted into a solid piece of aluminum. He looked back at Mitchell, silent now, bent over cleaning the grease off the floor. He set what remained of the can down on the coffee table and picked up the newspaper from where he’d dropped it on the floor. He went to open it, but was suddenly afraid to make too much noise. He didn’t want to attract attention to himself.

He watched the vampire and told himself there was no reason to fear him. Everyone lost their temper now and then. The bacon pan had made a hell of a mess, so it was hard to fault Mitchell for getting angry. That look he’d gotten, though, was worrisome. There was so much barely contained rage that the memory of Mitchell’s face made Anders wince. 

He picked the paper up and was trying not to think about his past when a soft touch on his shoulder and Mitchell’s weight settling on the sofa next to him made him look up. Chocolate eyes were brimming with tears, streaks of them trailing down to the corners of a mouth that was quivering with sorrow. 

“I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry.” The words were forced, raw with pain and regret.

“You scared me,” Anders replied softly.

“I scared myself. I wasn't mad at you. I was mad at me for losing control like that. I'm an addict and I always will be.” His weight rocked away from the blond as he shifted to put some distance between them. “If you want me to leave, I'll understand.”

“Leave?” Anders twisted around so that he faced the vampire. “Who said anything about leaving? You lost your temper and you're fucking scary when you're pissed off, but I never said anything about leaving.”

Mitchell was looking down at the floor. “I would never hurt you. Never! I need blood and this is how I get when it's been too long. There's been so much stress with the flight and being in a new place and the family ’thing’ last night.” He looked up at Anders, a tear slowly making its way down his cheek. “I'm so very sorry.”

Without thinking, the god leaned forward and pulled the Irishman to him, winding his arms around him and holding him close. He's always bragged that he never worried about anyone else, but he was worried about Mitchell. He was really and truly smitten. He held him tightly. “It's going to be okay. We're going to make it okay.”

Anders released Mitchell and looked up into his dark eyes. “So what do we do about getting you your fix?”

The discussion hadn't been long. The visit to the website his raised Anders' eyebrows, but elicited no further response other than, “I'm going with you.”

Mitchell shook his head. “I'm not proud of this part of my life. I should do this alone.”

Anders was as stubborn as his Norse ancestors. “Neither of us is alone now. You can't shut this part of yourself off from me.”

The vampire sat with his head buried in his hands for a long moment and then looked up at his partner. “You're sure?”

The god nodded. “As sure as I can be. I know that if there is anything that can tear us apart, this is it. So why not meet it head on?”

Mitchell drew him in for a long hug. “You're amazing. What did I do to deserve you?”

Anders grinned and nipped his collarbone. “You give world class blowjobs.”

The rest of the day passed with them cuddling in one place or another. Anders was surprised at himself. Usually he found needy people to be annoying as hell. For Mitchell he found himself making tea, giving backrubs and mid-afternoon a slow sensuous blowjob that he didn’t feel any need to have reciprocated. He mused that he must have suffered brain damage while he was passed out from the alcohol overload. The thought made him smile and cuddle tighter against his boyfriend.

Dinner was a frozen chicken potpie that Anders actually managed to make. He was quite proud of himself. Mitchell was wired and had trouble settling down to eat. He managed slightly more than half of his dinner and helped with the dishes. They watched a movie curled together. The Irishman kept watching the clock and finally at eleven, said it was time to get ready.

Mitchell slid on the white poet shirt with the deep V-neck that showed an impressive amount of chest. His black skinny jeans accented the breadth of his shoulders. He put enough product on his hair to pull the curls into individual ringlets that fell fetchingly over his right eye and he tied a blood-red bandanna in a band around his neck as an accent. 

When he came out of the bathroom, Anders stopped to look at him and licked his lips. “I suppose it would be bad timing to throw you on the bed and have my way with you before we leave.”

The vampire smiled and winked at him. “After we get home, babe. Just hold that thought.”

He pulled his black boots out of the closet and sat on the bed to watch Anders dress. “Are you positive you are okay with this? I'm so nervous that you will get creeped out and ditch me that I can't think straight.”

“I've dated some pretty kinky chicks, babe; handcuffs, paddles, dildoes...”

Mitchell looked up at him a smile twisting his mouth on one side. “Somehow I don't think that's going to cut with this crowd. They are into suspension, infibulation, extreme piercing, fisting and other fun pastimes.”

Anders' eyes widened and Mitchell chuckled. “Don't worry, you don't have to participate. Everything is strictly consensual as long as we are in the club. You just have to not freak out or vomit. Think you can do that?”

“I think I can manage it,” he said with a cocky grin.

He started to pull out a pale blue silk shirt, but Mitchell shook his head. “You need to look like sex on a stick.”

“How about this?” He pulled out a shirt he'd worn for Halloween a few years back. It was shimmery black silk, cut as low as Mitchell's. When he put it on it fit him like a second skin. He chose a pair of slacks that were really too small. They were ebony black and fit him as tightly as the shirt. He hoped he didn't have to bend over or pee while he was there.

The vampire cocked his head admiring his golden god and then ran his tongue over his lips. “You look good enough to eat.”

Anders thought he just might be blushing a little. He was about to pick up a gold chain from his drawer, but Mitchell stopped him. 

“You are supposed to look sexy, not like a pimp.” He grinned and leaned down to give the god a kiss. “Besides, I don't want you to look too hot. You are coming home with me tonight.”

Anders kissed him back. “If those people are into sticking things where they don't belong I'm _definitely_ coming home with your tonight.”

Shibboleth was in an old warehouse that had been refurbished only on the inside. Outside it was still a wreck, probably to help discourage the “straights” and keep the tourists away. If the look of the place didn't keep them out, the huge doorman certainly would. He was the size and shape of a gorilla and just about as handsome. He gave Mitchell and Anders the once over.

Looking at Mitchell he snarled, “What the fuck are you supposed to be, a vampire?”

“Very observant. Now are you going to let us in, or do I have to rip your throat out?” Mitchell's voice was low and deadly.

The gorilla laughed. “Well played. Gimme your twenty and get the fuck out of my sight and take your pansy wingman with you.”

“Pansy wingman?” Anders protested as they went throw a corridor lit with small red lights. “What the fuck?”

“He gets paid to be an arsehole, ignore him. Besides you are my wingman tonight. I just hope you're up for it.” He was about to say more but they entered the bar and they both slid to a halt.

The main room was brighter than Anders had been expecting. It was a riot of color from the lighting, to the posters that covered the walls, to the patrons. Somehow he'd expected Goths in black and angst. This crowd was anything but angsty. They were wearing an assortment of clothing that encompassed the entire freak spectrum; leather, spandex, latex and even steampunk. A few appeared to have opted for bodypaint and piercings. Makeup was everything from minimal to outrageous. It was such a swirl of color and motion and sound that Anders had difficulty taking it in. The music was techno and pounded at his ears. He looked up at Mitchell and found that he was standing still, quietly surveying the crowd. He looked at home and Anders couldn't decide if that was comforting or not.

Finally Mitchell moved forward through the crowd, ignoring them as if they were beneath him. Anders followed suit until they stood by the bar. The bartender had enough piercings to make his face leak, but his smile was genuine.

“Welcome to Shibboleth. If you have any questions, our hostess is Chai who's over there almost wearing the red spandex.” He pointed to a buxom blonde whose dress covered the barest essentials. “What can I get you?”

Mitchell ordered beer for them both. “We need to mingle a little. Tug on my arm if you are uncomfortable. Don't wander and don't accept any invitations for anything.”

Anders looked up, eyes wide. “No shit. I’d need to be a lot more wasted before I'd want to take this lot on.”

They headed for the rear of the main room and a lovely brunette intercepted them. She flirted openly with Anders who initially liked the attention. He raked his eyes up and down her ample curves...until she turned around. Her dress was laced up in back, the laces looped over carefully placed hypodermic syringe tips. She didn't seem to notice the piercings and moved as fluidly as if the laces were caught in eyelets instead of her flesh. He was about to say something to Mitchell, but she drifted away and was replaced by a tall blonde who was covered head to toe in flaming orange spandex. There were openings only for eyes, nose, mouth and large breasts. She was more interested in the vampire, so he was free to look around.

He looked at the number of people wearing nothing but a few leather or latex straps and suddenly felt overdressed. Everyone had tattoos of everything from a butterfly to full body tats. To his right a tall man was dressed in an amazing steampunk outfit complete with top hat and tails. Several young women wearing collars were gathered around him, chatting and occasionally kissing one another sensuously. A small woman dressed in black patent leather with platform heels at least a half a foot high walked past him, leading a tall young man who was nude except for a transparent plastic cage apparently clamped onto cock and balls and a huge spiked collar around his neck. She held the leash and he followed obediently, casting a shy look at the god out of the corner of his eyes. 

Anders noticed that Mitchell was now talking to a tall woman with long black hair, who was wearing a slinky gown of black latex. It was cut down to her crotch exposing an elaborate tattoo of flowers. He found himself fascinated by it, but was interrupted when a whip looped around his neck and he was pulled around to face a stunning black woman who was totally encased in a body suit of leopard print spandex. There were cutouts for her eyes, nose and mouth and golden zippers that promised access to more intimate areas. He swallowed hard and smiled at her. 

“You're new here,” she purred. “I like new boys. I like to teach them some manners. Tell your friend you will see him tomorrow.”

Before she could say anything else, Mitchell unwrapped the whip and smiled at her. “He's mine.”

“You could share,” she pouted, stroking a hand over her ample breasts and then down between her legs. “But I've got some new toys. I have a lovely new violet wand and I could do such pretty things to you with it, blondie.” She looked at Mitchell and then back to Anders. “Your friend might like to watch while we play and make the sparks fly.”

The vampire looked at her haughtily. “I don't share.”

“Yeah,” Anders said quickly. “He doesn't share.” She made a pouty face and stalked toward the back of the bar, her lovely ass telling the god what he was missing.

Mitchell turned to him and pulled him close, lips locking down and tongue going deep. Anders felt a zing all the way down to the tip of his cock and kissed back enthusiastically. Mitchel’s lips moved down his neck and stopped as he sucked hard. There was a sting as the blood was sucked to the surface leaving a large hickey. When the vampire released him he was sporting an erection that was very visible under the thin fabric of his slacks. He noted that a man who had been eyeing him was not staring any longer. The vampire had marked him as property. In another place that would have been annoying. Here it was comforting. 

Moving like the vampire's shadow, he followed him toward the back where the rooms branched out. He looked in one to see a heavily tattooed man suspended from large hooks inserted in his skin. He seemed to be performing some sort of aerial act oblivious to the blood that slowly seeped down from his piercings. 

Mitchell stopped in the doorway of the room, ignoring the performer. He scanned the room, looking for prey. Several looked back, but like a lion could pick the right antelope to go after, the vampire knew that they were not who he was looking for. The look on the spectators’ faces as they watched the torture in front of them was unnerving. They didn't stay for the rest of the act, for which Anders was eternally grateful.

Mitchell knew what he was looking for. He'd been in fetish clubs before, the Goth bar in Bristol being a colossal step down. They were full of people who, like him, lived on the fringes of society, barely tolerated by the straights and mundanes. Here they could be themselves in all their wild, weird and wonderful ways. Here he could be a vampire and no one would bat an eye. They wouldn't consider that he was the real thing. This place was based on fantasy. Everyone here was playing a part, no matter how extreme that part might be. On Sunday morning when the club closed for the week they would go back to being executives, secretaries, school teachers and police. But tonight they could do and be anyone they wished.

He didn't want to remember being the floor show at a fetish club in Berlin before the rise of Hitler. This club was tame compared to the ones in those days that were invitation only. If a fetish or a game got out of hand there were people there to clean up, to sweep away the bodies and blood and make way for the next players. Shoving those memories deep, his eyes swept the crowd looking for his target.

Tonight he was the hunter again. It was a thrill. It always made his pulse race and his groin tighten. He would spot his prey and then play her or him until they came to him ready and willing to go with him and do anything he suggested. In the bad old days they didn't live to tell the tale. Tonight would be different. Tonight the hunt really was a game. It didn't heat the blood, but neither did it mar the soul.

Mitchell spotted her deep in the second room where a man and woman were having intercourse suspended by ropes that appeared to bite cruelly into their skin. The man had a second woman's fist up his rectum, so the vampire thought the ropes might just be the least of his concerns. He appeared to be having as good a time as was the redhead who rode him like a bronco. He dismissed them, smiling internally at the tiny squeak that Anders made when he realized the whole of the scene in front of him. 

Mitchell was interested in a tall blond man with hair that flowed to his waist. He was dressed in silver fishnet, his pierced nipples catching the spotlights from the performers. He turned to look at the vampire and nodded once, acknowledging his presence. 

He turned to Anders. “Stay here,” Without looking back he strode across the room to the blond, his presence parting the packed bodies to let him pass.

They took each other's measure. The blond was taller and more muscular; Mitchell was older and more powerful. 

“I haven't seen you around before,” the blond observed, the Kiwi accent sounding out of place. For some reason Mitchell had been expecting something European. 

“I haven't been around before. But I am now.” Mitchell replied. “Is that a problem?”

“Not with me it isn't, mate.” He gestured at the room. “There are several of us who hunt here. Anyone who is willing is legal. There will no trouble if you do not kill.”

The irishman nodded curtly. “Understood.”

“Good hunting.” The blond vampire drifted into the crowd leaving Mitchell standing alone.

He walked back out to join Anders, who looked up at him. “What was that all about?”

“Just making sure I'm okay to be here,” Mitchell replied, shifting his attention to the people milling around the room.

“You mean he's...uh...a..”

“Yeah. Don't worry, you're safe. Stay with me.” He looked at Anders and smiled.

Reassured, the god tried to smile back. “Just call me Velcro.”

Mitchell stepped further into the room. His gaze skimmed over the people, male, female and indeterminate. He focused on a woman, the tall brunette with the blood-red gown cut down to her navel. He could see the scars on her lovely neck when she turned to see the action better. She was prey, but she was not a victim. She would come with him only if she wanted to. She had her choice of players tonight. The tall blond was a true vampire and there were several men and one woman who were playing the part tonight. He saw the female vamp wannabe make a move toward the brunette and stepped into the room, Anders trailing closely.

Moving easily through the crowd he caught the brunette’s eye and focused on her. She looked at him and smiled, sliding a slow moist tongue over her lips. He kept his face expressionless, fixing her with his stare while his body posture said that he didn't care if she was interested or not. 

She moved toward him, her movements fluid in spite of towering heels that matched her dress. She stepped past the blond vampire who looked at Mitchell briefly and nodded. He was not hunting her tonight. Although she didn't know it, she had just been sold to the highest bidder. 

Anders mimicked the vampire and fixed her with a haughty look. She looked him up and down as she slipped through the crowd. The look in her eyes was one of interest. She caught his eyes and bit her bottom lip. A thin trickle of blood wended its way down her chin. She licked at it, spreading the blood over her lips like gloss. When she reached them she leaned over and kissed Mitchell hard, grinding her teeth against his lips, opening a small cut. Her tongue flicked out and caught the drop of blood. Holding it on her tongue she bent and kissed Anders equally hard, thrusting her tongue into his mouth. The taste was revolting, but the act jarred him with its raw sensuality. He felt himself harden again and he eagerly returned her kiss. 

Mitchell observed his reaction, hearing his heart rate increase. He wasn't certain if this was a good thing or not. Before he had time to ponder it, she was back to kiss him again, long red fingernails scraping their way across his groin, locating the head of his cock and digging in just slightly. He stepped away from her. This one liked pain, both giving and receiving. Had he been alone he would have sought tamer prey, but he wanted to get Anders out as soon as possible and he had to admit that he was long past finding any pleasure at being in a place like this.

He turned and she followed them out of the room. “I am new here. Where do we go?”

She licked her lips again and he could see her pupils were dilated. She was cruising on more than alcohol. “Why not your place where we can party undisturbed?”

Mitchell looked at her coldly and closed one hand around her throat, constricting her breathing just a little. Her eyes widened. “Because you never leave a place like this with someone you don't know.”

She looked frightened for a moment, then relaxed as he released her. He didn't know if the lesson would last, but hopefully she wouldn't repeat the offer to anyone else this night. He trailed his fingers from her throat to trace down the line of her cleavage and then back up to gently tease the scars on the side of her neck. Her breath caught and her pupils dilated further, but with lust this time. 

She led him down the hall to where a huge man wearing only tattoos and a g-string stood, apparently on guard. He said something to her and pointed to the lift at the end of the hall. They rode up on the freight elevator, with Mitchell keeping her mouth and hands busy and away from Anders.

The god had felt that he was being shut out until he saw her dig her nails deeply enough into Mitchell's back to raise spots of blood on the white of his shirt. He was reminded forcibly that these people played a very different game, one that he didn't understand and wasn't prepared for. Wincing slightly as he watched her dig a second set of gouges into the vampire's back he remained silent, trailing after them like ghost.

They passed a second guard, this one in enough leather to require half a herd of cattle, who directed them to the second room on the right. The room had a mattress on the floor and numerous throw pillows as well as condoms, lube and various toys. The lighting was dim, red bulbs tucked into crannies that provided the perfect atmosphere. The vamp wannabes would be able to role-play very convincingly here. 

She looked over at Anders and smiled. “Aren't you going to come and play with us, pretty boy?”

The god shook his head. “I think I'll pass.”

“Ooh, you like to watch. Well, then we'll give you a show.” She blew him a kiss and turned back to Mitchell, sliding her hand up his neck to tangle in his hair. She attempted to pull it, but he disengaged her, claiming her lips in a savage kiss.

Mitchell inhaled deeply. Her scent was all around him. It raced through him, making his blood boil. His erection was so hard it was painful. He thrust his manhood against her, positioning himself so that it rubbed along her cleft. She ground her hips, fucking him through their clothes. He wanted her nude, splayed before him, throat open, blood pouring out. The predator stalked to his forebrain and dug its claws in deeply. His eyes flicked to ebony, his fangs extended for the kill. He wasn't breathing, he wasn't thinking. He had to strike and then drink. He had to take what was his, her blood...her life...

He struck, fangs digging just the right depth to puncture the jugular, pulled at the last moment to keep from going deeper for the carotid artery. Even as her blood flooded his mouth, he forced the predator to withdraw its claws and back off. He drank deeply, feeling the gouges on his back heal as his body quickly metabolized the blood. She thrust herself against his erection and then stopped, muscles going tense, neck arching as her orgasm took her by storm. She cried out with the intensity of it, relying on Mitchell to support her. 

When the aftershocks had passed he lifted her as if she were a doll and laid her on the mattress. He stretched out with her and gently licked her neck, cleaning the smears of blood and soothing the twin wounds he'd made. She was lethargic, stretching like a large cat and running her hands along Mitchell's body.

“Want to fuck now,” she said breathily.

He ignored her, pulling her more upright and stuffing pillows behind her back. He looked around and then up at Anders. “There are juice and biscuits on the stand there. Get them for me.” He looked at the god for a long moment and then turned his attention back to the woman.

Propping her up, he encouraged her to drink the orange juice and to eat a biscuit. She was still stoned on drugs and the high from being bitten and wanted to argue, but Mitchell was insistent. Anders knelt next to him and helped hold her up. He resisted looking at the vampire who had a smear of blood in the right corner of his mouth. Now that this was over it was making him feel slightly ill. He was mildly surprised that his problem wasn't so much the idea of his boyfriend drinking blood as it was how he had to get it. It also wasn't much of a stretch to see how it probably was in the past. The god shoved that thought to the back of his mind and locked the door. You can't change what is past, he reminded himself. 

Over her protests, Mitchell rose to leave. He opened the door and beckoned for the guard, who came over and noted that the woman was sitting up eating a biscuit. He nodded once to the vampire and then returned to his place in the hallway. They were free to go. 

What had seemed interesting on the way in was now garish, loud and bordered on unbearable. Anders couldn't wait to leave. He shouldered a beautiful but heavily pierced blonde out of his way, ignoring her curses at his rudeness. Mitchell was also moving quickly, ignoring everyone as he headed for the exit. The doorman made a half-heard comment about the brevity of their stay and then they were outside. Never before had Anders appreciated how sweet the night air could be. 

They didn't talk on the way back to the car and the ride home was in silence. Anders unlocked the door and was going in. He looked back at Mitchell who avoided his eyes and said, “I'm going to sit out here for awhile. Go on to bed. I'll be along in a bit.”

Anders came back out in his sweats with the afghan from the bed. The vampire was sitting on the step smoking, looking up at the stars. Anders draped the spread over the Irishman's shoulders and then joined him beneath it. 

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

“I think the question should be...are you?” Mitchell's voice was uncharacteristically flat and sounded far away. 

Anders slid his arm around the vampire's waist and leaned into him. “Yeah, I am. That was a weird scene, but it didn't scar me for life or anything.”

Mitchell blew out a lungful of smoke and chuckled. “I'm chuffed to hear that. That was a pretty heavy duty club. Not all of them are that far out.”

The god gave him a little squeeze. “It's okay; we didn't have to be there very long.”

The vampire stopped breathing for a time and just sat like a statue staring at the sky. After long moments he whispered. “The stars are wrong here...I feel wrong here.”

Anders gut clenched. “Don't say that.” He looked at Mitchell but the Irishman was focused on the sky. “You just aren't used to it yet.”

“I don't want to hurt you.” The words were so soft that Anders could have dreamed them. 

“You won't hurt me, Mitchell.” There was an edge to his voice.

The vampire looked at him, eyes ebony, fangs out. “You don't understand. I hurt everyone.”

Anders looked into the eyes of The Hunger and stared it down. “I'm not afraid. You won't hurt me...you won't let yourself. You are stronger than that.”

His eyes clicked back to normal and the fangs receded. “You should run away while you still can.”

Anders looked up at him, eyes reflecting the streetlight looking more gold than blue. “The only direction I want to run in is toward you.”

A car turned the corner, headlights blinding them for a moment before it passed. “We're just two crazy blokes sitting on a cement step, freezing our arses off discussing the fact that the stars are different.”

Mitchell smiled. “If that's philosophy, it sucks.”

“Yeah, my philosophy is about as good as my poetry,” Anders admitted. “Now why don't we go inside where it's warm and we can curl up in bed and not talk about the stars or breaking up.”

They walked into the bedroom hand-in-hand. Mitchell vanished into the toilet and Anders could hear him washing up and gargling. He came back out and stripped quickly. As he turned the god noticed that there were no wounds on his back. 

“You're healed,” he marveled.

“Huh? Oh yeah, I heal very fast after I...” He blinked and shrugged. “I put my shirt to soak in the sink, I hope that's okay.”

“Sure, why wouldn't it be?” Anders peeled off his sweats and noted that the Irishman was already in bed. Although it was weird, the experience had been erotic as hell and he'd more than hoped that once they got home he could burn off the arousal he had simmering on the back burner. From the look on Mitchell's face, he guessed not. 

He slid into bed next to him and moved over for a kiss only to find that the vampire had turned away from him. A mixture of anger and disappointment washed over him resulting in the only thing he knew to do.

“I'm not as sexy as that bitch you bit, but don't I at least deserve a fucking kiss?” 

Mitchell's head whipped around in surprise, his eyebrows nearly up to his hairline. “What the fuck are you on about? She wasn't sexy. Jaysus, Anders!” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. “I'm not avoiding you. My fucking breath stinks. I'm not human, remember? I'm going to smell like a charnel house by tomorrow and will be awful for a day or so.”

Anders followed him across the bed, sliding behind the Irishman to wrap his arms around him from the back. “Why didn't you just say so?”

Mitchell's body seemed to collapse in on itself until he was sitting bent over with his elbows on his knees, face in his hands. His voice was muffled and small. “I don't know.” He heaved a ragged sigh. “I'm so tired of being different...of being a monster.”

Anders started to say something soothing but the vampire cut him off. “And I'm tired of being sorry for myself and making excuses all the time. I never understood why anyone would take their own life, but I do now. When you feel so tired that you don't know how to tolerate one more day...”

The god tightened his embrace to the point of pain. “Don't say that! Don't ever say that!” He raised up and kissed the back of Mitchell's neck. “I don't want to think of a life without you.”

He pulled hard and tipped Mitchell back into the bed. Rolling quickly he half pinned him, looking into his sad eyes. “I mean it. I don't want to live without you. I don't know what's happening with us...with me, but I know I can't be alone again. I can't bear the thought of waking up to a world without you in it.”

The vampire reached up and cupped his hand against Anders' cheek. “Do you know how amazing you are? Of course you don't; no one ever told you before.” His thumb caught a tear that spilled over. “Maybe I'm here so I can tell you.”

Anders caught his hand and brought it to his mouth kissing the palm. “And I'm here to tell you that you aren't a monster. You're my boyfriend and I care for you.”

Mitchell's eyes widened. “Do you love me?” he asked softly. 

“I don't know,” Anders replied, his voice a whisper. “I've never been in love before. If it means feeling like I died a little inside when you talked about taking your own life, then I might be. I don't know. I'm sorry, but I don't. I don't have anything to base it on. I've never felt like this about anyone before.” He looked stricken. He also looked scared, as if the very thought of being in love was terrifying.

“I don't want to say something that might not be true. I'm not good at this boyfriend stuff, am I?” He looked at Mitchell, his face worried, dimples vanished. “I spent all my life making fun of people who were in love. When I think about it I feel like a big hole is inside of me. It's easier not to think about it.” 

The Irishman turned and gathered Anders into his arms, holding him tight. “We're so fucked up. We can't even talk about how we feel about each other without hedging,” Mitchell whispered, brushing kisses into Anders' hair.

“I'm sorry.” The god's voice was so low the vampire could barely hear him. He pressed his face tightly against Mitchell's chest and his next words were lost against soft skin. “I'm broken and no one can love me.”


	12. Hope Has a Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are working out slowly, but there is hope and maybe a future.

__

For Hope Has a Place  
One look at love and you may see  
It weaves a web over mystery,  
All raveled threads can rend apart  
For hope has a place in the lover's heart.  
Hope has a place in a lover's heart.

Mitchell cradled the god against his chest not knowing what to say or do. He had grown up in a world full of love. He couldn't imagine the coldness of Anders' life. Reading and surfing for information, or even holding someone during a nightmare, doesn't begin to give you an idea of what it is like to cower in a dark closet trying to protect your little brother, praying your own parents don't come after you.

When the tenseness drained from Anders' muscles, the Irishman started stroking his back, nuzzling tenderly at his forehead and cheeks. He wanted to make him feel cherished and safe. 

“You're not broken,” he whispered. “You've been hurt and you're afraid, but I'm never going to let anyone hurt you again.” For an instant his eyes flashed ebony and his fangs descended a millimeter. Anyone who harmed Anders was a dead man. He forced it back, irritated that the predator was still so close to the surface. He kissed his god tenderly.

“I love you, Anders Johnson,” he murmured sweetly. “I don't need to hear it to know that you love me back. You say it with every smile and every touch. You said it by coming with me tonight, seeing what I am and yet trusting me enough to lay here in my arms.” 

Anders moved until he could see Mitchell's face. “I do trust you. That first night you were so concerned for me. People don't usually care what I feel.”

Mitchell's lips pulled into a little smile. “I'm not ‘people,’ remember?” 

Anders nodded and then ducked his head. “I feel stupid talking like this.”

“I know, babe. It's okay if you need to be snarky for a minute to feel better.”

Anders laughed and nipped the Irishman's collarbone sharply. Mitchell yelped and flinched away, but the blond pulled him close and kissed the bite. “There, I feel better now.”

“You really are a prick.” The words were softened by a chuckle. 

“Yeah, I am. But I'm your prick.” His hand slid low to cup Mitchell and hold him gently. “And you're mine.”

“Careful or you'll start something and tonight really isn't a good time,” Mitchell said firmly. “So give me a kiss and get some sleep.”

“Now you're being a prick,” Anders complained.

“We are just a couple of pricks. I'm full of blood and you're full of shit. Now shut up and go to sleep.”

 

* * *

Sunday morning dawned bright and early and then slid into the afternoon without disturbing the two bodies tangled together on the bed. Mitchell was an Irish burrito, completely wrapped in the sheet and blankets. At some point Anders had regained enough consciousness to acquire the afghan and was curled up in its soft folds. 

The fullness of his bladder woke the god, who fought his way out of the afghan and staggered to the toilet. On the way back he looked at the clock and groaned. He was back in bed before it dawned on him that 4:30 was pm and not am. He looked over at Mitchell who was quite literally dead to the world. He was curled up in his cocoon of blankets, lying peaceful and motionless.

Anders got up and grabbed his sweat pants. He leaned down to kiss Mitchell and stopped. The vampire was right, his breath was horrible. Holding his breath, he gave the Irishman a peck on the cheek anyway and wandered out into the kitchen in a quest for coffee and food, not necessarily in that order. 

He toasted himself a bagel while he waited for the coffee to perk. Munching the bagel, he spread the newspaper out all over the couch and sat there with it in his hand, alternating between trying to focus on the words and drifting back to the club. Finally he sat there with the paper forgotten.

Shibboleth was the weirdest scene he'd ever made. He thought he'd dated some freaky deaky chicks, especially when he was experimenting a little too freely with illegal chemicals. But even Tanya of the black eye shadow and her love for being double fucked with a dildo while he spanked her, couldn't hold a candle to what he saw at the fetish club. He didn't have to wonder what was going on in all those other rooms that were being guarded. He had the internet. 

He started to take a sip of coffee, but paused with the cup halfway to his mouth. He could see the woman that Mitchell picked up, biting her own lip to draw forth the blood. Red and glistening, it had trailed down the corner of her mouth looking both sensual and disgusting. Her pupils had been as wide as her irises. She had been flying on something and either it, or her natural proclivities, turned pain to pleasure. 

Pain seemed to be a popular aphrodisiac at the club. The rooms he'd peered into all seemed devoted to pushing the body to extremes. The customers themselves were tattooed and pierced and not a few sported body modifications, some of which would chill the strongest bloke. All of these things hurt. Anders was not big on pain. He had been hurt too often in his life to find any pleasure in it, or get any pleasure from giving it. He didn't object to the odd nip now and then, but that was it. Okay, he'd made the exception for Tanya, but he'd been so high he could barely remember it.

He didn't want to admit that he'd watched Mitchell like a hawk. The man walked through the crowd of freaks as if they were riffraff to his royalty. Anders hadn't truly appreciated the vampire's walk and manner before. The Irishman was usually gangly and self-effacing, but when he needed to he could pull out the predator and stride like a big cat, quiet and graceful. 

The expression on Mitchell's face when he'd bitten the woman was terrifying. It went from completely blank to a look of intense pleasure. He'd only seen that look before at orgasm. It was obvious that taking the blood was intensely sexual even if he had denied her demands for sex afterward. He was clearly only interested in the blood and not the woman. She was beautiful and he could have had her. He didn't want her. The moment he was done, the god could see him distancing himself from her. His amber-dark eyes had looked at Anders with deep sadness afterward. This was a part of his life he had not wanted to share. The god felt embarrassed that he'd forced the issue. 

He was also embarrassed at how turned on he was while Mitchell was feeding. He'd wanted to shove her out of the way and take the vampire himself. He'd wanted to feel Mitchell thrusting into him, taking him with abandon, walking just this side of violence. He felt the beginnings of an erection and quickly stood up. That was about enough of that train of thought. He went back to the kitchen, dumped his cool coffee and refilled the cup. He didn't want it. He just didn't want to be thinking about anything right now. 

Anders snapped his laptop shut. He was tired of reading contracts, even if they did distract him. The sun was starting to set and still the vampire hadn't wakened. It was getting late and he was getting hungry. Annoyed, he seriously considered going in, snapping on the lights and announcing that he wanted some attention—first food and then, well, other things.

The god started at the the noise behind him. He whipped around and found Mitchell standing there, blinking in the light. Grinning snarkily, he quipped, “He lives.”

“Not funny, twat,” the vampire replied. “What time is it?”

“Nearly 5pm. I was wondering if I was going to have to go in and perform some sort of ritual above your coffin.”

“Are you always this hysterically funny in the morning?” Mitchell asked, a huge yawn spoiling the glare he was attempting to give his boyfriend.

“It's hardly morning and hasn't been for twelve hours. I was waiting for you to get up so we could go out for a _bite._ ” Again the snarky grin.

“Not if I have to listen to bad vampire jokes.” He scratched his head making his hair look even more as if it were electrified. “Do you want to go out, or do you want me to try to wake up enough to cook something.”

“Fuck cooking, Anders replied quickly. “In your condition you’ll burn the place down. Where would you like to go?”

Another yawn. “I dunno. Out. Someplace that gets me outside. After last night I need fresh air.”

“Burgers okay?”

“Awesome. Lemme shower and dress. I’ll be back.” He turned and started into the bedroom.

“That’s what Schwarzenegger said and look what happened.” 

“Huh?”

“Reference too modern?”

“Reference too stupid. It’s the Terminator in 1984 who said it, egg.”

Anders groaned. “I should know better than to bandy movie references with a film buff.”

Mitchel winked at him. “Check and mate.”

Anders chose a beach dive that was about an hour out of town, but sat right on the shore, so that they could take their burgers and chips and beer, of course, out onto the pier. Mitchell was always a little chilly, so Anders made sure there was an extra hoodie and a couple of blankets in the boot of the car. It wouldn't do to have a romantic evening spoiled by the Irishman’s teeth sounding like castanets.

The burger stand was right on the beach. They took their bags and beer and hoodies across the road and walked down to the benches edge of the water. The tide was going out leaving the air smelling of salt and ocean floor. It was an intense scent, but one that was clean and invigorating. Mitchell filled his lungs forcibly several times, nose flaring as he took in the scents and parsed them. Some scents he couldn't identify and some reminded him of home. He pulled out the burger and bit deeply into it, focusing on his food and the man sitting next to him.

Anders watched him take a huge bite and heave a contented sigh. It really took so little to make the man happy. He'd always felt that he needed possessions and power, but Mitchell had come with what he could fit into a suitcase and a bag and only a handful of cash. Yet he was happy as long as he had food, a place to crash and warm arms to hold him. As a role-model he was actually pretty awesome.

Before they had gotten past two bites the gulls started to arrive. The Pacific gulls were bigger and bolder, shouldering out the pretty red bills and nattily dressed black-backed species. One of the big ones marched right up to Mitchell, stretched himself to full height and let out a prodigious squall. The vampire laughed so hard he almost choked and Anders pounded him on the back.

Seeing his chance, the gull did his best to nick Mitchell's chips, but the vampire deftly outmaneuvered him. “You feathered sod, back the fuck off and ask nicely!”

The gull took a step back and bobbed his head several times, still staring at the Irishman in a test of wills. Finally Mitchell relented and tossed him a chip. The gull snatched it in mid-air and then took off before he lost his prize to one of the other birds who were crowding around. When he'd swallowed he headed back and took up his position in front of the vampire again.

Anders was laughing. “Once you start feeding them you won't get another bite.”

“Wanna bet,” Mitchell replied stuffing half the burger into his mouth.

“Great, that's attractive.”

“It's him or me. Anything is fair in war,” Mitchell replied around the wad of food in his mouth. 

He shoved the rest of the burger down and swallowed. Fixing the seagull with a gimlet stare he said, “There, you feathered arsehole. That's what you get for trying to steal my supper.”

The gull nodded twice and glared back. 

“I don't think he's impressed,” Anders observed.

“Cheeky bugger, isn't he? Well, I guess you have to have to have an attitude when you have to hunt for your dinner.” 

Mitchell paused and lost his smile. Leaning forward, he held out a chip. “You're an arsehole, but you earned it.” The gull carefully came forward, uncertain that it was safe to take it. He got right up to the vampire and then snatched the chip, quickly launching himself into the air before anyone else could nick it. 

Mitchell watched him fly away, an unreadable expression on his face. Anders slid his arm around the Irishman's shoulder and pulled him close. They sat there quietly for a few minutes, Anders looking at Mitchell and Mitchell looking at the sea.

Finally Mitchell took a deep breath and turned to the god. He drew him into his arms and hugged him. Anders turned his head for a kiss. The Irishman turned away, aware of his breath, but Anders was not to be dissuaded and cupped Mitchell's cheek, kissing him gently. They sat like that, chips getting cold, kissing and petting and being tender with each other. The sun was sinking low, painting the sky in amber, orange and yellow. 

“This is the most beautiful sunset I've ever seen,” Mitchell said softly. Anders nodded against his shoulder. “I don't want to leave.”

The god tightened his grip on Mitchell's waist. “Then don't, because if you do—I will follow.”

The vampire looked down at him and found his smile again. “You would, wouldn't you?”

A nod and a little smile. “Yes. You've changed my life so much. I don't know if I can change myself, but you make me want to try.”

“I love you just the way you are,” Mitchell whispered softly. 

“Even when I'm a dick?” There was doubt in his voice.

“Especially when you're a dick, because that's when you need to be loved the most.”

They gave the rest of their chips to the gulls who had been patient enough to hang around and walked back to the car hand-in-hand. 

Mitchell rode for a time in silence, watching Anders in the growing dark, marveling at the beauty of him, how perfectly imperfect he was. His nose was too large, yet it gave him a classic chiseled profile. It lent strength to a face softened by beautifully shaped lips framed by dimples. His dark blond hair would curl softly if he let it grow. He was everything the Irishman had ever wanted. He didn't even really mind the snark because he knew where it came from. How did life suddenly get so perfect? He heaved a sigh. He was so afraid to lose what had been dropped into his lap.

“What are you thinking about?” Anders asked, casting a side glance at Mitchell. “I can hear your brain working from over here.”

'You. Me. Us. I don't want this to end,” he replied quietly. “Last night was so ugly, I'm afraid it will drive you from me.”

The god snorted. “Well, I'm not packing it in anytime soon and if you're not shooting through, I don't know what the problem is.”

“Me. It's always me. Vampires aren't supposed to try to have normal lives. It never works out. Something goes massively wrong and the human always pays the price.” Mitchell looked out the window into the night. “I don't want to hurt you.”

Anders reached over and twined his fingers with Mitchell's, the softness of the glove was comforting agains this palm. “You won't hurt me and I'm not human—I'm a god. When Odin finds Frigg I'll be a real god and then we'll be together forever.”

“Forever is a very long time,” Mitchell whispered, looking at Anders. 

The Kiwi looked back, his lips curling in a small smile. “Not half long enough to be with you.” The little smile turned into a grin. “Poke me when I talk like this, will ya. I'm gonna give myself diabetes.”

“I don't want to poke you. I love hearing it. I'm as maudlin as fuck tonight.” He smiled back at Anders. 

Mitchell heaved a sigh, the smile slipping away again. “You still love me after last night?”

“What?!” Anders whipped around to look at Mitchell for a second before looking back at the road. “Is that a question? If it is then it's a stupid question.”

“I shouldn't have let you go.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? We can't have secrets. If there's one thing I learned from Mike it's that having secrets will fuck up a relationship faster than anything. I'm glad I went. It was a freaky scene, but what the hell.” Anders was agitated and shifted in his seat. He was having difficulty keeping his eyes on the road so he pulled over.

He twisted until he could face Mitchell. “It's a part of you that you can't change. You need blood and this is a safe way to get it.”

“Yeah, safe.” His hands fisted. “You wouldn't say that if you knew how badly I wanted to take more...to take all of it. Do you know how many people I've killed?

“No, and I don't want to know. I do know that you could have kept on killing. You didn't have to rescue a werewolf and then move in with him and adopt the house ghost, but you did. You want to be the John Mitchell you were before that monster destroyed your life. I think that's pretty fucking admirable.” 

Mitchell put his hand as though Anders should stop. “Let me finish,” the blond snapped. “You've done a shit ton more to make a better life for yourself than I ever did. If you hadn't come along I don't know what I would have done. Sooner or later I would have drunk myself to death, we both know that. So now you've rescued a werewolf, a ghost and a god.” He smiled slightly. “Better watch it or you're going to get a reputation.”

The vampire chuckled. “You're really not freaked out about the club?”

“No. I'm not sure I want to go back again, but no. I don't need to monitor you. I saw how you cared for her afterward. That other Mitchell might still be there, but the more you are decent the further away he will be.” He looked up at the Irishman. “I wonder if that will work for me?”

“It already has,” Mitchell whispered. He lifted Anders' hand and kissed the back of it. “It already has.”


	13. A Sigh of Sighs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitchell was afraid he would lose Anders. Who wants to be with someone who is addicted to blood? Anders, in turn worries about his own faults. But tonight...tonight there are no worries. There is only love.

_Whispering world, a sigh of sighs,_  
The ebb and the flow of the ocean tides.  
One breath, one word may end or may start  
A hope in a place of the lover's heart.  
Hope has a place in a lover's heart. 

When they arrived home they barely made it inside the door before Mitchell drew Anders into his arms and kissed him breathless. “I want you so much,” he whispered.

The god pulled back only long enough to reply, “I've wanted this since last night. I'm a kinky bastard and that was a turn-on.” He raised onto his toes and ran his hand down Mitchell's back, cupping his rump and pulling the vampire hard against him. 

They headed back to the bedroom, stripped swiftly and launched themselves into the shower. Anders tried to take advantage, but Mitchell stopped him. “Nope. I don't want it here. I want you in bed spread out for me.” The god moaned a little as the Irishman teased his nipples. 

They got out of the shower, dried off in record time and sprinted to the bed like a couple of randy teenagers. Mitchell stopped only to light the vanilla candles next to the bed and on the dresser. He loved to see his god in the flickering golden light. 

Anders was laying there watching him. He thought he could just stare at Mitchell forever. He moved like a panther, all long and lean with a dancer's grace. He'd found he liked the body hair as well. It made the Irishman all soft to touch and he'd discovered that trailing his fingers lightly over the hair turned Mitchell on almost as much as being more intimate. It was fun finding each other's hot spots and turn-ons. He hadn't known it could be this much fun giving pleasure to his partner, but he knew now how much he'd missed out on.

Mitchell lay farther down on the bed, reclining next to his partner at just the right position to easily reach that tempting chest with the crazy kinky curls and the soft pink nipples. Careful not to breath on Anders, he stretched out, pinning him down, pressing kisses into the fur of his chest The god missed kissing him, but this was good. It was easy and as comforting as it was erotic. They both loved it when they stretched out together, bodies pressed together, hands and lips roaming and teasing. Together they were perfect and right and forever.

Anders arched up under the vampire's touch, giving himself over to kisses, licks and nibbles. Sharp teeth worked their way up to graze the soft skin of his throat and then slid down to explore his collarbone, giving him shivers. The teeth nipped their way to his nipple, but were replaced by the soft lick of a wet tongue. First one and then the other was thoroughly explored, caressed and brought to throbbing stiffness. The god had never realized how sensitive he was there, or what an amazing feeling it was to have someone interested in exploring these new sensations. 

Mitchell loved taking his time and pleasing his partner. He appreciated the way the god responded. Sex was fun with him, but it also reached emotional depths that the vampire hadn't known that he wanted. Orgasms were wonderful, but he'd hungered for something more and now he'd found it. He nuzzled against the tightly curled hair of Anders' chest and inhaled deeply, intoxicated by his scent. If ever he would have been asked what his idea of heaven was he would have said that he was in it. 

He licked and nibbled his way down his lover's belly toward the treasure that stood rigid and throbbing, begging to be touched. When he reached it he took it in hand, stroking for a moment so that he could position himself. Looking up at Anders he said, “Tell me what you want.”

There was a responding groan from the head of the bed, but no words.

“I'm not moving, mate, until you tell me what you want.” The Irishman's eyes were twinkling with mischief. The last twenty-four hours had been so heavy. It was time to lighten things up.

“You know what I want, arsehole.”

“Oh, you want me to do something with your arsehole or is it mine that you're wanting?” He trailed a finger down from the base of the god's testicles into the cleft.

“Uh...yes, I mean no. God, you're driving me crazy.”

“You're the god. I'm the vampire. What do you want?” His smile was positively evil.

“Suck it, Mitchell. Please. Stop fucking around.” Anders' response was both sharp and pleading. 

“Mmmm, should I make you beg?”

“You do and I'll fucking come down there and kill you.” Anders raised up and was trying hard to glare, but the twitch in the corner of his mouth gave him away. He bounced down onto the bed. “Don't torture me, you Irish bastard.”

Mitchell's laugh floated up, delighted that he'd provoked the reaction he wanted. Without waiting, he pounced, taking the god's cock deep into his mouth, sliding as far down on it as he could and sucking hard. The reaction he got was almost as good as the tease. 

After a few thrilling trips up and down, Mitchell changed to licking and stroking. He wanted to prolong the pleasure, not get the god off. Anders was fine with that, fucking upward, encouraging the attention, whimpering when the vampire's tongue grazed softly against the head, lapping up the slick fluid and spreading it around. This was one of Mitchell’s favorite things to do because he enjoyed the reaction he got. Giving really was as good as receiving; at least it was with Anders, who had a deep appreciation for an educated tongue and a willing mouth. 

“You are so good at that, baby,” he whispered, petting Mitchell's hair, tangling his fingers in the curls to encourage him. “You make me so crazy. I love to watch you.” He boosted himself up on his elbows. “Have I told you how beautiful you are?”

Mitchell looked up at him, curls spilling over one eye, hand still stroking and teasing. The god reached down. “Come up here. I don't give a shit about your breath. I need to kiss you.”

The Irishman shifted and threw a leg over Anders, resting his erection against the god's chest as he arched his back like a cat and claimed perfect pink lips in a searing kiss. Reaching up, the Kiwi was able to gently caress the tight dusky pucker between Mitchell's cheeks. He trailed his fingers over it and then scraped it gently with a fingernail, making the vampire moan and press upward, asking for more. With no lube handy, Anders just tickled and teased, pressing his fingers against the tight muscle, careful not to poke too hard. 

Mitchell was groaning and rubbing against his chest, precome leaking to sparkle in the tight golden curls. 

“Slide up here,” Anders whispered. “Bring that beautiful hot cock up to me.”

Moving carefully, Mitchell inched up the bed until he was straddling the god's shoulders, bobbing erection just above his lips. The vampire looked down at him--sapphire eyes dark with lust, perfect mouth opening as he licked his lips to moisten them. The sight was so erotic he had to take a deep breath and contain himself. Anders had no control in the position and depended on Mitchell to be careful. 

Taking himself in hand, the Irishman rubbed the tip of his cock across Anders' lips. The response was immediate and breathtaking. The god leaned upward, captured the tip between his lips, and flicked his tongue around the tip in a circle. Moaning loudly, Mitchell arched backward and shivered as he struggled to hold himself still and not thrust into the moist heat that was driving him insane. 

Anders’ lips pulled a little as he smiled. It was exactly the reaction he'd been hoping for. He sucked a little and kept on tonguing. Sliding his hand over to the night stand he pulled the lube down and uncapped it, squeezing some onto his fingers. Mitchell started moving in and out of his mouth in small slow thrusts as Anders slid his hands first up the Irishman's thighs and then to the softly furred mounds of his ass. Spreading the muscular cheeks apart, the fingers glistening with lube slid in, dragging a slick sensual trail up from his peritoneum to the tight pucker. 

Twirling his finger, the god teased and stroked, encouraging the muscles to loosen and allow passage. Slowly he inserted a finger, pressing and tugging just a bit to heighten the sensation. As he slid it in he grazed the lump that marked that incredible sweet spot and felt his partner tense as the pleasure of it rolled over him. He trusted the Irishman not to lunge forward as he had no protection from a thrust in this position. Mitchell groaned, the twitch of his muscles showing how hard he was fighting himself for control. He leaned forward and grabbed onto the headboard of the bed, digging his fingers into the wood until it dented.

After another few moments of sweet torture, he rocked backward, pulling his cock from Anders' mouth with a soft pop. The blond started to protest the loss, but Mitchell quickly said,“I can't take that anymore. You're making me crazy and I don't want to hurt you.”

Anders was reluctant to let him go, but he was grinning at the thought of turning his partner on so strongly. He slid his finger out and allowed the Irishman to move back.

Mitchell knelt next to him, skin shining with sweat, curls stringing around his face making him look like the god of sex. Reaching up, Anders wound his fingers in those curls and tugged gently. “I want you,” he whispered hotly. 

The vampire's eyes were burning dark and hot in the candle light. “I thought you'd never ask,” he replied. He started to lie back on the bed, but the god stopped him.

“No. Not like that. I want you inside me.” He tugged the curls, pulling Mitchell down for a hot wet kiss. Sliding his tongue over the vampire's lips, he said, “I've wanted it since I saw you take her at the club. She went down onto the mattress and I wanted it to be me.”

Mitchell stopped dead. “That turned you on?”

“Yeah. That the last part where she was begging you.” He slid his lips to the vampire's ear and blew into it hotly. “Yeah, that part was hot. I wanted you to throw her out of the room and take me right there.”

“Even...even with the blood?” He was confused.

“Didn't matter. Blood. No blood. Just seeing you strong and beautiful and wild. It's not the vampire that turns me on, John, it's you. I love the wild passionate Irishman that slips out when you're really turned on and not being all civilized. I think that appeals to Bragi as much as it does to me.” 

His words sent electric shocks down into the head of the vampire's cock. Mitchell twisted in his arms and kissed him hard, tongue delving deep. Anders rose under him, moaning, fanning the fire even hotter. It was roaring through both of them and Mitchell claimed his god, kissing him thoroughly, nipping and biting his way down Anders neck, pausing at the juncture with his shoulder to lick the dark bruise he'd raised at the club. Sucking it, he pulled it darker, shading it out against the golden skin. Claiming the god again as his own. 

“I've marked you,” he whispered gruffly into the god's ear. “You're mine.”

“Oh yeah,” was the passionate reply.

Mitchell wanted to grab him and take him, but he could control the need. He was learning that nothing was stronger than his will. He took the time to lick and suck and tease his partner until Anders was hovering on the edge of insanity before he carefully worked a lube-slick finger against his puckered sphincter. He sucked the blond's cock slowly, only working him enough to bring him to that point where pleasure and pain become confused in the mind and his body would readily accept the press of the finger and grant it access.

Anders groaned when it slid in, holding still, his muscles shivering with both the slight sting and the pleasure of it. Only when the clenched muscles loosened did it push further inward. It brushed that sweet rise a few inches in and he shivered harder, moaning and fisting his hands into the sheets. It was almost too much, that sweet suction paired with the press of the invasion. Whimpering softly to himself he pressed down a little, asking for more. Mitchell gave it to him.

A second finger gained entrance, joining the first. Anders added a sob to his soft moans. He was aware that he was being noisy but didn't care. This was too good to just lay still and take; he had to participate in the only way he could. When he accepted the second finger, Mitchell introduced the third. This one made the god arch off the bed and grab a handful of hair. 

“Too much?” the Irishman asked worriedly.

“Nuh uh, want you—not fingers.” He looked down, meeting Mitchell's eyes. 

The lube and condoms were within reach and Mitchell applied both quickly. He was so hot that just sliding the condom on nearly made him spill. He took a deep breath and positioned himself. He looked down at Anders making sure that it was what he wanted. The god licked his lips and mouthed the word, “please.” That was all he needed. He pressed forward slowly, asking for entrance, rather than demanding it. Slowly the god's body yielded, stretching and expanding to allow him to slide in. When he was fully seated he paused.

“Are you okay,” he asked in a ragged whisper.

Anders nodded. “Don't stop.”

The vampire slid almost out and then in, watching as his partner's expression softened from tolerance to lust. He lifted one leg high to give himself better access and set a slow steady pace that rocked his cock in and out, brushing Anders' prostate with every thrust. He'd gotten used to being the receiving partner and had to admit that he was enjoying this changeup. He loved being able to control the movement and know that he was giving the god so much pleasure. 

He reached down and wrapped his long cool fingers around his partner's erection, squeezing and pulling in rhythm with his thrusts. Anders moaned and arched up, begging for more. He was so beautiful in the warm light of the candles. Here he let go of pretense and became softer, his features almost pretty with perfectly shaped lips that were pulled back in a dimpled smile as he welcomed Mitchell's thrusts. 

“Oh yeah,” he murmured, encouraging the vampire. “I love it. I want it, I want it so bad.”

“How bad do you want it?” Mitchell asked, slowing to a stop. 

“Don't stop, you fucker.” His words were raw with need, his sapphire eyes black with lust. “Ram me and don't stop.”

“You won't be able to walk tomorrow,” Mitchell teased.

“I don't care...”

“Ah that's what I like to hear.” He bent over and thrust harder, still being careful not to slam with as much force as his body was demanding. As hard as his lust was riding him, he was still aware that he was with a human, even if that human was harboring a Norse god.

It only took a few more thrusts before Anders peaked, crying out as he emptied himself over his partner's hand and his own belly. Seeing the god come spurred Mitchell and he thrust twice more and held still, muscle ticks chasing each other down his torso and legs as he climaxed, encouraging the last of Anders' aftershocks. He rode his own out and then collapsed on the bed, spent and smiling.

“That was amazing,” he said as he pulled Anders in for a kiss. 

“Yes. It was. If I need a walker tomorrow I will tell Dawn it is all your fault.”

“Oh absolutely. I had my way with you over your protests,” Mitchell teased. Kissing the tip of Anders' nose he moved to snuggled his face against the Kiwi's neck. “I love you,” he said softly. “I never thought I'd say that to anyone.”

Anders tightened the arm he'd thrown around Mitchell's chest. “And I never thought I'd hear it.” He reached down and tipped the vampire's face up. “You are amazing.” 

They kissed for a long time, lost in each other. Finally the chill of drying body fluids drove them apart to clean up, but they headed back to bed opting to shower in the morning. Tonight was for cuddling. The candles were blown out reluctantly and darkness fell over the bedroom. The only sign of life were the slow movements, whispers of endearments and gentle kisses from the entwined bodies under the blanket in the center of the bed. When they drifted off to sleep they didn't move and morning found them still wound together like Celtic knotwork signifying forever.


	14. Under the Heavens We Journey Far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love eases the way and hope has a place in the lover's heart.

_Under the heavens we journey far,_  
On roads of life we're the wanderers,  
So let love rise, so let love depart,  
Let hope have a place in the lover's heart.  
Hope has a place in a lover's heart. 

Mitchell woke out of a sound sleep and lay in the dark trying to parse the dream. It had seemed so real. He was at Shibboleth stalking through the humans, holding nothing but contempt for them. They were blood meals, nothing more. Their little lives counted in years instead of centuries, burning themselves out, turning into ancient shriveled corpses while he remained beautiful and strong. He could step on them as one does upon an ant and feel nothing but contempt.

He could have his pick and his choice would have no will, but would go smiling to the sacrifice, loving it and him, even as life blood drained away. It was a thrill, the strongest turn-on of them all, to sink his fangs deep into an unresisting neck and drink his fill—drink and become drunk on the Life that flowed from the cattle around him. He could feel his erection pressing against the tight fabric of his pants. He would fuck the human he chose and time its death with his orgasm. It would live and die only to serve him.

He'd made his selection and taken it into a side room. There the kisses had turned harsh, clothing ripped away. He'd stabbed himself into the hot willing body over and over and then struck the killing blow, fangs driving deep into an unprotected neck. When it was drained the slack muscles allowed the head to roll toward him and he looked into Anders' unseeing eyes.

Horrified, he'd thrown himself backward, moaning and sobbing, begging it not to be true. But his love had not moved. As always, he'd destroyed the one he cared about. Once more, he'd plunged his heart into darkness and despair.

He'd woken then with a start, a cry barely stifled on his lips. He'd looked over at Anders who slept peacefully, unaware of his partner's nightmare. The room was dark, but he could easily see the man's features, beautiful and relaxed in sleep. He reached out to touch him. To make certain that he was warm and alive. The god stirred slightly under the soft touch, reassuring the vampire that his worst fears had not come to pass.

He couldn't rest and quietly slipped out into the living room where he sat on the couch and lit a cigarette. The bitterness of the tobacco made him gag and he stabbed it out in frustration. He didn't know where the nightmare had come from. Everything was going smoothly. He felt cared for, loved might be a better term. Anders sometimes had difficulty saying things that came natural for Mitchell. But he knew the feeling was there. He did...didn't he?

Feeling restless, he stood and walked over to the fish. The light was out for the night and they were floating lazily having little fish dreams. He thought that it must be nice to just experience nothing but the present with no worries of the future, or memories of the past. He had so many memories that sometimes they clawed their way to the surface and burst forth in flashes or nightmares. He hoped that just maybe he was making some here that would not keep him up at night.

He went back and sat on the sofa, head cradled in his hands. He had a feeling...no...he knew what had brought on the nightmare. He'd penetrated Anders and somehow deep inside he was still feeling guilt about that first time. It was stupid. The god was an adult and had been ready to stop struggling with his sexuality. But there was always that good old 19th century Catholic guilt that Mitchell seemed determined to carry to his grave. 

A wisp of memory floated back. He was sitting on the step and his mum had come and sat beside him. He was her middle son and the gentlest of the lot. She always tried to find some extra time for her Johnny. He'd been sad because he hadn't been there to keep Mary from walking in the mud and spoiling her new shoes. She was only five, but he'd felt that she was his responsibility. Mum had brushed back his tangles and kissed his cheek gently. “You bear the weight of the world, you do, Johnny. You're the heart of me and I hope life never makes you so hard you change. But you can't carry it all alone. Let others bear some of it and be taking responsibility for themselves.”

She was right, of course. She was always right. He had to let Anders take responsibility for himself. He'd asked to be on the bottom and their gentle lovemaking had nothing to do with fangs and blood and death. He didn't know why he was so fixated on worrying about Anders bottoming anyway. It was just him being an arse. 

He got up and went back into the bedroom. He slid back into bed and almost immediately found himself wound in Anders' arms. 

“You're freezing, where have you been?” he asked, the need to cuddle warring with the need to move away from the icy body cradled against him.

“I had a bad dream,” Mitchell admitted in an embarrassed whisper. “I'm okay now.”

Anders leaned over and kissed him. “What was it about?”

Shaking his head, the vampire said, “I don't remember, just that it made me sad.”

The god threw a leg over Mitchell's thighs and pulled him close, heedless of the chill of his skin. “Come here and let me warm you up. You can't have bad dreams with a god wrapped around you.”

* * *

Anders woke before Mitchell and snapped off the alarm. He was stiff from sleeping curled around his chilly vampire. He straightened out tentatively, checking for soreness. Not finding more than the normal “I slept in one position for too long” aches, he rolled over and sat up. He felt…well…maybe a little swollen. It wasn’t painful and in its own way reminded him of last night’s heat. 

Moving slowly, he slid the covers back and eased his way down the bed. It didn't take much to get the vampire going. Mitchell woke hard and needy in the god's mouth. 

“Oh babe,” he moaned softly, arching up into the sweet sensation. Twining long fingers in Anders' hair he held him lightly as he lost himself in the sensation.

It was over in only a few hot minutes, the blond smiling to himself as he welcomed his boyfriend's orgasm, swallowing quickly, his tongue flicking out to lap at the bitter slickness that remained. 

Mitchell drew him up, hands questing downward only to be gently pressed away. “Nope, this is your morning treat. I'm fine.”

“You sure? I'm up for it.” He slid his hand over Anders' shoulder, stroking his arm and teasing down onto his chest.

“Yeah, I'm sure. Now stop that. I have to get up and get dressed for work.”

“No, stay here with me,” Mitchell whined teasingly. “Want you here.”

“Don't tempt me, you gorgeous creature,” he replied kissing the vampire's cheek. “I feel like I sat on a brick, so give me some time to recover.”

Suddenly concerned, Mitchell turned to face Anders inadvertently breathing on him. 

Anders coughed and then laughed, making a face. “I'm not sure I'm ever going to get used to that.”

Mitchell turned away quickly, his face flaming with as much of a blush as he could ever have. Instantly sorry, Anders rolled over on top of him, kissing his cheek and stretching trying to reach the vampire's lips. 

“Hey, you're digging me with your elbow,” Mitchell complained. “You just said my breath stinks, now you're trying to kiss me, what the fuck?”

The god moved his elbow and kissed the red spot he'd made. “I just want to prove that I'll kiss you even if you smell like a dead cow's arse.”

Mitchell chuckled. “Thanks. I think. Let's just skip the kisses, okay?”

Anders pouted, his lower lip protruding, making him look like a very sexy little boy. The vampire looked at him and burst out laughing. “Stop looking at me like that, or I'll be forced to kiss you and ruin your breakfast.” 

“I don't get why your breath stinks. You don't have halitosis from hell after you eat a steak.” Anders was still sitting on him, playing with his chest hair.

“Because the blood is raw, numb-nuts and I don't have the fastest metabolism in the world. Or I guess that's the reason. It's not something I've ever thought out. It's just something that is.” The Irishman slid his hand down Anders' arm, coming to rest with his fingers entwining the god's. He really wanted to change the subject now. He loathed those times when he was reminded of what he was.

Anders's body reminded him of two things: that he had to pee and that sitting with his legs so far apart was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Reluctantly, he slid off of his partner and headed for the loo.

Mitchell watched him go, admiring the perfect half-moons of muscle that comprised his ass. He didn't believe that he had ever seen anyone built so perfectly before. He was musing about it when Anders reappeared and started to dress. The vampire rolled out of bed and stretched, partly for the pleasure of it and partly because it gave him an excuse to watch Anders. The Irishman had always thought of himself as too thin and too hairy, but the look on of lust on the god's face reassured him that his boyfriend thought he looked just fine. He stretched a little more, hungry eyes feasting on the Kiwi's golden charms until the eclipse of Anders pulling on his briefs. Heaving a little sigh of loss, Mitchell slipped on his on boxer-briefs and went out to rustle up some breakfast. 

He was still getting the hang of scrambling eggs, but he was a genius with toast and a percolator. Breakfast was ready quickly and he took a moment to spread just the right amount of marmalade onto Anders' toast. It was very satisfying to sip sweet coffee and watch his love eat. Gone was the greyish pallor from too much alcohol. The dark circles under the god's eyes were gone too. The vodka bottle was still in the freezer, but now it's contents emptied slowly and only when Mitchell was at home. He heaved a little sigh of contentment. The god looked up an smiled.

Anders would much rather have spent the day with Mitchell. The office was quiet, there was nothing that needed his attention, not even the folder of papers in front of him. He looked at Dawn fiddling with the computer trying to keep busy. The day was boring for them both. Anders was considering calling Mitchell and suggesting a long lunch when a client decided that he wanted to change his strategy to one that was even less likely to sell his crap dog food. Anders spent an hour on the phone talking him out of it. By the time he hung up he had a massive headache and just needed food. 

He walked out into the office and Dawn looked up. “I'm going to order some takeaway and wondered if you'd like to join me?”

She raised an eyebrow at the unexpected invitation. “I was actually going to ask for a couple of hours off to run some errands.”

He shrugged. “Sure, why not? Everything is caught up. Take the rest of the day, you've earned it.”

She looked a little flustered. “Really, I was just going to ask...”

He held his hand up. “I'm the boss, remember. So go do shoppy things. I think I can manage to order some food and hold down the fort for a few hours without destroying anything.”

He didn't have to tell her twice and she made a speedy exit before he could change his mind. Sauntering back to his office he went through all the local takeaway asking his mouth what it wanted. There was a war between pizza and something more healthy. Fortunately pizza won. Mitchell had introduced him Chicago style pizza and now he was hooked. That's Amore Pizza delivered so it was easy to dial it and convince himself that a double meat and cheese was healthy eating. 

Anders had managed to polish off most of a slice of pizza when the office door opened. He got up to see who it was, pizza wadded into his cheek and a dribble of sauce at the corner of his mouth. He came face to face with Ty and froze.

“Dawn’s, uh, off for the rest of the day,” he managed between chews and a big swallow.

Ty’s eyebrows dropped to make his eyes even darker and Anders took a step back. “She had some errands to run, so I gave her the time off. She’s earned it.” 

“She’s okay,” he said gruffly. It wasn’t a question.

“Sure she’s fine. Why wouldn’t she be? Ring her. She probably hip deep in a sale by now. Where did you think she’d be? 

“You can’t blame me for asking,”Ty countered.

“And you can’t blame me for thinking you’re an arse.” Anders went back into his office and kicked back in his chair. He shoved the pizza box across his desk. “Help yourself. You look like you could use pizza.”

His brother came and sat down. After a minute the smell of pizza got to him and he picked up a slice. Anders smiled internally. Feed ‘em pizza and you have ‘em by the shorthairs.

“How are all things cold and freezy?” Anders asked taking a swig of his soft drink.

Ty shrugged. “How are all things dark and bloody?”

His brother grinned. “Neither dark nor bloody.” 

He turned toward Ty, his grin sharpening. “Nobody has actually given a flying fuck enough to ask about anything that they didn’t see on Fright Night. Do you want some actual facts, or would you just prefer to keep making shit up? He took a bite of his pizza and sat licking the sauce off his fingers.

Ty got up and got himself a Coke from the mini-fridge. “I suppose facts are preferable.”

“Okay, Mitchell needs blood to survive; he eats normal food including pizza with garlic just like everyone else. The blood works more like a vitamin. He needs it between once a fortnight and once a month depending on stress.”

“That’s all?” Ty was surprised.

“Well, oftener is better for him, but he’s never fed daily. If vampires did that we would be up to our arses in corpses.” He looked over at Ty’s expression. “Yes we have vamps in Auckland. I sort of met one last Saturday night.”

“Met one?”

Anders shrugged. “Well, I didn't talk to him, but Mitchell did. He looks like a fucking Elf from Lord of the Rings if you're interested. Pretty hot, actually.” He grinned at Ty enjoying watching him shift uncomfortably. 

Ty was suddenly not interested in his pizza. “We have vampires here?”

“Yeah, every place has vampires apparently,” Anders replied smoothly. “Oddly enough, they have no particular desire to be discovered, so they don't go strewing the street with corpses like the last act of a Shakespeare play.”

Ty winced and his brother chuckled. “Look, I didn't set out to fall for a vampire, male or female. I'm sorry you're not comfortable with my sexuality. Hell, I'm not comfortable with my sexuality, but I'm working on it. I was born into the weirdest family on Planet Earth and I'm just trying to have a life. My life, like my family is pretty fucking weird.”

He looked at his brother and sighed softly. “I don't want to fight with you or anyone. Can't we just kinda get along?”

The brunette pinched the bridge of his nose. He loved his brother even if he wanted to punch him out every once in a while. “I just don't want this to hurt Dawn.” His dark eyes were worried, his body tense as he sat there feeling as if he didn't know his brother any more at all.

Anders nodded. “If he hurt Dawn, I'd stake him myself, but he's not going to. He has a source for blood that's safe for everyone. Just think of it as a junkie with a source.”

“You know, that's not as comforting as you seem to think it is,” Ty replied.

“Take it or leave it. It's all I have to offer.” The god shrugged and took a swallow of his Coke. “He and Dawn adore each other. Look at it this way, if anyone even so much as looks at her cross-eyed they will have a pissed off vampire to deal with. It doesn't get safer than that.”

“You love him, don't you?” Ty said.

Anders nearly choked on his drink.

He looked up to see his brother watching him, his expression a cross between quizzical and amused.

“I...I don't know,” he sputtered. “I don't know dick about love.”

It was Ty's turn to chuckle. “I think you do. I think you're so far in it that you may never come up for air. I've never heard you defend anyone before and I've never known you to have more than a one-shot with anyone. Yet here you are explaining Mitchell to me while happily cohabiting with him.” The chuckle turned to a laugh. “You've got it bad.”

“I do not!” Anders' nearly tipped his chair over backward. “We're just dating.”

“With him living in your apartment having moved all the way from England I'd say it's more than just 'dating'.” Ty was grinning now, having moved the shoe to the other foot. “Have you two set the date yet?”

“For what?”

“To get married, of course. It's legal now, so you can't just live in sin.” 

Anders threw his wadded up napkin at his laughing brother. “You're a dick.”

“Well, you like dick, so I'm good,” came the giggling reply.

“I can see I'm gonna take it up the ass on this from now on.” Anders was laughing and pointed at Ty as he took the shot at himself. 

Grimacing, Ty stood up and shook his head. “I think your humor is going to take a downward turn.”

“Ah, if you haven't made friends with your prostate, you're missing out.” Anders helped himself to another piece of pizza.

“And with that revelation, I think I'm going to go back to work,” he said as he headed for the door. “There has to be a freezer I can go and stick my head into.” 

Anders just laughed and kicked back to enjoy his pizza. 

* * *

Mitchell switched off the telly and picked up his phone. He was bloody tired of sitting around and doing nothing while Anders worked. He was tempted to call the immigration office again to ask about his work papers, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. They were being “processed” and would arrive when they arrived and not a minute sooner. 

He was ready to take a walk when Anders cruised in looking windblown and gorgeous. He walked straight into Mitchell's arms, ignoring his breath and claimed a long slow kiss.

“Well, to what do I owe this honor?” the Irishman asked when the kiss broke.

“Never look a gift god in the mouth,” was the cheeky reply. “There is nothing for me to do at work this afternoon. I sent Dawn home and now I've come to collect you.”

“Collect me for what?” Mitchell was grinning. He had no clue what Anders had in mind, but knew that it was going to be fun.

“You, my gorgeous boyfriend, are going sightseeing.” He returned Mitchell's grin and just let the idea sink in.

“I'm going what?”

“You've been in Auckland for three weeks of me being an arse, family fights and angst. It's time you saw the reason I love living here. Grab your jacket and your shades, babe and shake that hot booty.”

Anders held the door open for Mitchell. “Where would you like to go?”

“I want to go to the zoo, but you aren't dressed for that. How about the museum?” Mitchell said shyly. He wasn't sure how Anders would react to his choice.

“The what?”

Yeah, he should have known. “It's okay,” he said quickly. “I can go some day on my own. Where would you rather go. You know the city better'n me.”

Anders stopped. He was surprised by the choice his boyfriend didn't strike him as being a museum kind of guy. He hadn't been there himself since he was a kid. So why not check it out? 

He slid into the car and looked over at the Irishman. “The museum it is. Maybe I can learn a little something while we're there.”

Mitchell winked. “I think you know a lot already.”

The Auckland War Memorial Museum was impressive. Anders nearly lost Mitchell at the dinosaur display. He was fascinated by the moa skeleton. The god did have to admit that a three-meter tall chicken was impressive, especially the size of the drumstick. When he said as much to his boyfriend he was hushed. The vampire pointed to a group of small children staring in awe at the towering bird. Being an adult, Anders stuck his tongue out and went over to look at the replica of the Haast's eagle.

Mitchell joined him and read the placard that announced that the eagles had a 2.6 meter wing span. He whistled softly. “Do you suppose Tolkien knew about these blokes?”

The children suddenly surrounded him and he read the information card to them, adding his own Irish interpretation of just how big the eagle had been. They looked up at him with wide eyes as he told them that it could carry them off, maybe with one in each claw. Then he grinned and reminded them that the eagles were long gone and they had no worries. But they could pretend they were eagles. At this suggestion the tallest boy swooped down and picked up the smallest announcing that he'd found his dinner. Amid giggles he was carried off with Anders reminding them to save a drumstick for him.

When they had moved on to a video of Haast's eagle Mitchell looked after them a bit longingly. “Do you like kids?”

“Sure. Broiled with drawn butter they are lovely,” Anders replied quickly. It sounded like a practiced reply.

“No. Really. Do you like kids?” Mitchell's eyes were dark and serious.

“I don't know much about kids,” came the reply. “I never was one.” He looked at the Irishman, his eyes shaded by downcast lashes. “If you're asking if I would like a child. I never thought about it. I think I'd be too afraid that I'd just repeat my father's mistakes.”

Mitchell shook his head and laid a protective arm over Anders' shoulders. “No you wouldn't. You wouldn't be like him in a million years.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, you egg. Now lets stop thinking like this and go and see what other wonders they have.”

The _Te Ao Tūroa_ – the Māori Natural History Gallery was amazing. The sound of Māori music greeted them, drawing them in and never quite letting them go. Anders found himself as entranced as Mitchell and they moved slowly between the exhibits marveling at the art and sculpture, the star map and the video of the story of Māui's fish – the _Te Ika a Māui._

The call for closing finally pulled them away and they were walking hand-in-hand agreeing that they had to come again soon when a large man quietly blocked their path. His face was heavily tattooed with the intricate swirls of _Tā moko._ signifying his rank and status. From the look of him Anders guessed that it was pretty high.

He looked at them and spoke a formal greeting. _“Tēnā kōrua.”_

_“Tēnā koe,”_ Anders responded in kind.

The man cocked his head and looked at them with interest. “You are _ira atua,_ supernatural. But you are not the same.”

Mitchell took an involuntary step back, his eyes darting to find the exit. Being outed for him usually meant danger and he was ready to defend them or to flee if necessary. Anders gripped his arm, suddenly afraid of the Māori.

The man took a step away from them and held his hands out palms up in the universal gesture of peace. “I apologize for startling you. I am a _matakite_...a seer. I mean you no harm.” He smiled warmly and the tattoos seemed to soften and accent his good humor.

He looked at the vampire. “My little island is not often visited by personages such as yourself. Where are you from?” His voice was low and musical, Mitchell found himself liking this man very much.

“I am from Ireland,” he responded softly. “I'm John Mitchell and this is Anders Johnson.”

The Māori extended his hand, shaking Mitchell's firmly. “I am Anaru Rukupo. I am pleased to meet you.” He extended his hand to Anders who shook it, looking slightly uncomfortable.

Rukupo looked at Anders. “You have a light within you that is not yet a part of you, but will be some day. It is a good thing, but must be used with care and wisdom.” 

He looked at Mitchell. “You have seen many decades. Your soul is injured and bears scars and wounds. You have come to _Aotearoa_ to find peace. Our north island will soothe and heal.” He looked at Anders and and back at Mitchell smiling. “You have found love already. That is good. Love can heal all wounds.” He looked from Anders to Mitchell. “ Love will help you use the light within wisely. Love will keep your heart beating.” 

With a single motion the seer removed a pendant from around his neck and offered it to Mitchell, who bent forward so that it could be slid over his head. “Thank you very much,” he said smiling. 

He returned the smile. “This _Pounamu_ our sacred stone the shape is called _koru_ or loop. It taken from the shape of the new shoots of the silver fern. It is the symbol for new beginnings and rebirth. 

He turned to look at Anders. “You have not known love before, but you do now. Do not be so afraid of it. It will only make you stronger.” The seer reached into his pocket and pulled out a pendant that was an infinity twist shading from dark to light jade. He held it out to the god who bent forward to allow it to be placed around his neck. 

“This is _pikoura,_ the two sides twisting around one another, each holding and strengthening the other. It is a symbol that you will be connected always.”

Anders was blushing a little but he smiled and bowed slightly. “Thank you very much.”

He was about to say more but the overhead speaker announced that the museum was now closed and to please exit the building. They'd looked up automatically at the sound and when they looked back the seer was gone. They looked around and there didn't seem to be anyplace he could have gone in only a moment, but the room was empty except for the two of them.

Mitchell looked at his boyfriend. “You know, I think someone is trying to tell us something.”

Anders laughed. “I got that feeling. Never mess with Māori elders. If they don't know it, no one does.”

Mitchell reached over and lifted the infinity loop that hung around Anders' neck. It was heavy and warm where it should have been cool. The stone seemed to have an inner light that grew brighter as the Vampire held it.

He lifted an eyebrow. “Do they have magic?”

A shrug. “I wouldn't doubt that they do. They are as ancient as the gods.”

“But not,” Mitchell said claiming Anders' lips in a kiss, “as beautiful.”

They left the museum just ahead of a guard who shooed them out like two annoying kids. She's spotted them kissing and cheerfully told them to “get a room” preferably outside of the museum. 

Anders took Mitchell’s hand as they walked back to the car. “I thought maybe we’d go up to the Sky Tower for dinner.”

The vampire looked almost bashful. He ducked his head and looked at the god out of the corner of his eye. “Would you mind takeaway in bed?”

“Like I’d say no to that!” Anders replied with a grin.

Picking up the pendant around his neck and holding it with the stone cool and smooth against his palm, he looked down at his Kiwi. “I’d like my new beginning to start with us together.”

The blond nodded. He looked down at his own pendant. “I think that’s perfect.”

Eating Chinese while curled together in bed is absolutely not a chopstick affair. Mitchell opted for large spoons as being the least likely to create havoc. He and Anders were sitting facing one another, legs outstretched, the god’s legs over the top of his. They were feeding each other with a towel spread between them. It was deliciously silly and getting more so as their second beer worked its way through their veins.

Mitchell stuck his finger in his carton and dabbed a spot of sweet-sour sauce on Anders' nose. The god went cross-eyed trying to see it and Mitchell dissolved into peals of laughter. 

“I love it when you're silly?” he giggled.

“You do?” Anders looked slightly chagrined, then smiled. “I like being silly with you. I feel like it's okay if I make a fool out of myself.”

Mitchell leaned forward and kissed him softly. “You never make a fool of yourself, you're just fun and funny. I'm not your family, I'm your boyfriend, so it's okay to play once in a while.”

He put his food carton over on the nightstand. “Come'ere you.”

The Irishman gathered Anders into his arms and nuzzled into his hair. “I love your hair, it's so soft. I love all of you. You're my gorgeous golden god and I plan on worshipping you forever.”

“I know,” Anders whispered against his chest. “I'm sorry I can't say it yet.”

“It's okay,” he wasn't about to admit that not hearing the words caused a tiny stab of pain. “You'll say them when you're ready.”

Anders pressed into him. “I'm ready. I just can't say them.”

Mitchell chuckled, his chest quaking against the blond's cheek. “You just said them. Let's cuddle. I just want to have you in my arms.”

They put the food away, stripped down to shorts and then slid into bed, Anders sliding easily into Mitchell's outstretched arms. It felt so right and he was so comfortable here. He heaved a sigh and wound his arm around his vampire, holding him tight. 

Their kisses started out as gentle as the new shoots of a fern, but soon grew in intensity as tongues dueled, wet exploring each other, lips, chins and down to necks and chests. They swapped back and forth between dominance and submission, the change-up fueling their heat. Once moment Mitchell was holding Anders down while he explored the crisp kink of his chest hair and exquisitely tender pink nipples and the next he was roll onto his back, pinned as sharp white teeth nipped just this side of pain, leaving a shimmering trail of feelings down his neck and across his chest to the hard raisins of dusky pink nipples. 

Anders was usually content with topping, his years with women making him more reluctant to give up that position, but he discovered that joy could be found from below and with Mitchell it was never domination, it was always sharing. Sometimes they decided to forgo it altogether and explored another variation with tongues and fingers and, occasionally, toys. Their first online toy shopping expedition had resulted in giggles and blushes that were characteristic of neither, but made the experience more fun. 

Sex with Mitchell was fun. Sometimes it was so hot it scorched the skin and left him aching in the morning, but always, at some point, there was laughter. He'd never had that before and it was addictive. He slid his lips down past tempting nipples and then quickly over to one side just beneath the Irishman's ribs to suck at that one spot that never failed to convulse his partner with laughter. Oh cue, Mitchell rose up, folded double to get away from torture, laughing his eyes topaz with inner light. Moving vampire fast, he grabbed Anders, flipped him and returned the favor, making the usually reserved Kiwi cry out and beg for mercy. 

The mercy consisted of a swift move to engulf his boyfriend's erection, sliding expertly down until the begging changed from protests to pleas for more. Cupping the delicate sack below, Mitchell rolled them gently in his palm, using just the right amount of pressure. This was a dance that they had practiced so often that the moves were choreographed to make them easy, but allowed for variation and inspiration. On that thought, the vampire slid off of Anders' cock making him gasp as the cold air hit wet throbbing skin.

He took first one globe and then the other into his mouth rolling them around with his tongue. The scent was heady, the taste not so much, but he was turned on enough not to care. It was the feeling that counted, for both of them. The vulnerability and the utter trust and the drive to give pleasure. For the god there was no need to be guarded. He relaxed totally, letting his legs fall open to welcome the attention, eyes half closed as he drifted with the sensations. 

A slick finger probed the furled muscle at the blond's nether entrance and he pressed down inviting it to enter. Mitchell knew exactly what Anders liked and how to withhold it until his golden god was writhing, his body begging for more. Giving more was easy. Giving more was fun. 

He returned to what Anders jokingly referred to as his “staff of love” and planted tiny whisper kisses on the tip, savoring the slickness of the pearl of precome that was gathered there. The god's foreskin didn't always slip back on its own, at times it petaled around the tip making the Irishman think of a rose not yet fully bloomed. Smiling slightly to himself, he mused that he would never have thought poetic thoughts about a cock, but this one seemed to inspire him. He liked the contrast of the soft pink shaft when encompassed by the olive skin of his fingers. He liked the shimmer of the golden pubic hair, the delicate pink of the wrinkled sack below and the rosiness of that sweet entrance to pleasure. Everything about him was gold and pink. Everything about him was beautiful.

The moments of revery were interrupted by Anders slapping him on the shoulder to stir him into action. 

Mitchell alternated thrilling trips to take the shaft deeply with shorter harder movements suction strong enough to lift the god's hips from the bed. He added his hand at the base to ease his work and divided his concentration between the shaft and teasing Anders' prostate. It was a combination that was enthusiastically received.

“Want more,” the god whispered between panting breaths. 

Mitchell's reply was to slid in a second finger. Anders groaned and after thrusting upward a couple of times, he pulled back. 

“I'm gonna make it without you if you don't stop,” He was having difficulty talking and his pupils were so blown he could barely see the Vampire, who was still sucking in that amazing way.

Mitchell slid off for a moment. “This is your turn. My treat.” He kissed the tip of Anders' cock. The foreskin was rolled back now and the Irishman traced the rim of the corona with the tip of his tongue. Before his boyfriend could say anything else, he slid back down enjoying Anders moan of pleasure.

It didn't take long, not with and expert partner and all that stimulation. Anders had tanged his fingers into Mitchell's curls and tugged as he neared his peak. The vampire had already felt the pulse at the base and had slid down further to make it as good as he could. He felt the god's orgasm rise, hips thrust upward, muscles so tense they trembled as wave after wave of pleasure rolled over him. When it was over he continued to suck gently helping him ride out the aftershocks, bringing him down gently.

When he slid off, he flicked the underside once more with his tongue enjoying the shudder the touch caused. He swallowed hard and wiped his mouth before slipping up to join his love at the head of the bed. Arms languidly wound around him and slack lips kissed his, shell-pink tongue flicking out to taste himself. 

“That was amazing,” Anders whispered.

Mitchell nuzzled him, enjoying the feel of the god's short beard against his cheek. “I'm glad you approve. See what happens when you start something in the morning. When I have to wait all day to repay you, I owe you interest.”

“Mmm...remind me to make you wait for a day or two next time then,” came the sleepy reply. “Are you sure you don't need something?”

“Just you, like this all warm and happy in my arms,” 

Anders nodded, he was already drifting off. They fell asleep like that, woke at some point to make drowsy sweet love and then drifted off to sleep again still curled together warm and safe from the world.


	15. Hope is home, and the heart is free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope is home, and the heart is free.
> 
> It's been quite a ride -- coming to term with sexual preferences, dealing with relatives, dealing with one another, dealing with new-found emotions and a way of living that is totally different. Old habits die hard and new ones are hard to form. How do you go from being alone to being part of a couple? The road is full of potholes, but it sometimes leads to sunsets and skies full of stars and wonder. You never know what is on a road until you travel it. If you are lucky and have made the right choices you end up where it is safe and warm and welcoming. 
> 
> Thank you for coming with me on this journey of love and exploration. I appreciate each and every one of you.

_Look to love and you may dream,_  
And if it should leave then give it wings.  
But if such a love is meant to be;  
Hope is home, and the heart is free. 

The days drifted on, each one sliding into the next, each full of warmth, laughter and love. Anders had never known that life could be like this. For him the other shoe always dropped, usually on his head. Mitchell's work permit came and he applied at the hospitals. Anders hinted strongly that he might find public relations interesting, but that was quashed by Mitchell's refusal to dress like Anders.

“I love seeing you in that suit and even more I love taking it off you, but please don't ask me to wear one. “I'm just bog Irish and not good at playing the fancy man. I'll get a job that suits me, babe.”

“But we could work together,” Anders wheedled.

That suggestion was met with a resounding laugh. “And we'd never get a bit a work done. Dawn would quit in a week and then we'd both be out on the street.”  
“You are no fun at all.” Anders lower lip shoved out in a pout.

Mitchell grabbed him and lifted him high, kissing him on the way down. “I am the most fun you are ever gonna have.”

The god had been too startled to react when he was grabbed, but with the kiss, he wrapped his legs around Mitchell's waist and locked his ankles. “You're mine now and I'm not letting you go.”

“No?”

“No!”

Grinning evilly, Mitchell walked into the bedroom with Anders clinging to him like a limpet. He fell face-first on the bed, using his elbows to keep from squashing the god. Anders still had the breath knocked out of him, but he didn't let go. Mitchell was his and he was going to keep him.

He pinned the smaller man, arching his neck so he could kiss him, but Anders twisted away. “I'm not that easy, you have to earn kisses.”

“Oh I do, do I? And haven't I done enough to earn them? Haven't I cooked you meals and given you orgasms...lots of orgasms?” The vampire regarded the man pinned below with his head cocked and his eyes sparkling. 

“Do you think I'm that cheap? What have you really done for me lately?” Clear blue eyes danced with mischief. 

Mitchell was bemused. He had no idea where this was going, but he was up for playing along. 

“I am the god Bragi. I have not received tribute as befits a god who is being courted.” Anders' voice had taken a deeper sonorous tone. 

“Tribute?” Mitchell's bemusement had turned to confusion. “Uh, how about I make the spaghetti you like so much?”

“Spaghetti? What knave would suggest a dish made of noodles to feed a god? I asked for a tribute – not boiled noodles in sauce, peasant!” Anders raised his voice and his arm shot out from under Mitchell to emphasize his point. 

“Steak?”

“You would feed a god burned cow? I'm insulted.” His cheeks were quivering as he fought to keep from bursting out laughing.

“Well, it wouldn't be burned if you ate the fucking thing rare like civilized people,” Mitchell countered.

“People! I'm a god, Mitchell, and don't you forget it,” he thundered, his voice a little muffled coming, as it did, from under the Irishman's chest.

“Yeah, you're a god of smart-arse nonsense, talking smack to the vampire who is laying on top of you.”

“I'm not afraid,” the reply was fast and solid. “I'm a god and you worship me.”

“I do?” Mitchell giggled. “Oh yeah, of course I do.”

“Then give me a backrub.” It was hard to sound imperious from beneath his boyfriend, but somehow he managed it.

The Irishman slid off. “Yes, your godship, or whatever the fuck you are. With lotion, or without?”

“Lotion, peasant and be sure to warm it.” Anders had that cheeky smile that made Mitchell want to jump him here and now. 

“Your wish is my command,” he said as he grabbed the bottle of massage oil from the dresser and went out to nuke it into sensuality.

When he returned he found Anders laid out on a towel, shirt off, the wicked grin still lighting his face. He knelt across the back of his god's thighs and drizzled the lotion between his shoulder blades. Leaning forward, he spread it and then worked it in, strong fingers kneading tight muscles. He found knots that he gently worked out. The blond hadn't mentioned having a stressful day, but it was showing in his tense muscles. 

As he worked, soft sighs of pleasure provided a rhythm. He loved hearing Anders enjoyment. Knowing he was the reason for them made him smile. He worked out the kinks and knots slowly and steadily descending the smooth line of his partner's back. When he got to Anders' waist, he pulled his briefs down and worked on his buttocks. The soft moans took on a different tone and he smiled. 

He smacked the blond's rear and sat up. “I own you now puny god.”

“The fuck you do!” came the response, as Anders struggled to turn over. Mitchell held him down easily. Ducking as an arm swung around and just missed his midsection. 

“Better watch it, puny god.”

“I'm Bragi, not Loki,” he retorted. “And you aren't the Hulk.”

“Yeah, well if I go medieval on your ass you'll think that's exactly what I am,” the vampire threatened teasingly.

Anders snorted. “I said, I'm not afraid of you.”

Mitchell's grin faded to a soft look of love. “No you aren't and you never will be.” He arched his neck and started kissing his god starting with his hairline and working his way down the temple and over his cheek to dip the tip of his tongue in a dimple. Anders turned his head, expertly capturing the vampire's lips, sliding his tongue across them and into the hot moist cavern of his boyfriend's mouth. 

The kiss was long and deep even if the position was nearly breaking Mitchell's neck. Gradually Anders unlocked his legs and let them lay on the Irishman's rump. This was the moment Mitchell been waiting for. Inhumanly fast, the vampire turned and dug both hands into Anders' ribs drawing forth a scream of protest.

“You don't sound very godly now,” he teased as he went after the blond's abdomen next.

Anders retaliated with a grab to Mitchell's inner thigh, the only place where the Vampire was ticklish. Mitchell nearly sat bolt upright pulling the god up with him. Anders slid his arms around his boyfriend's neck and went in for the kill. His lips started with Mitchell's and then slid downward with a licking nipping combination that bordered on pain, but not quite. By the time he got to the base of the Irishman's neck Mitchell was panting, his hands sliding over Anders' delicious golden expanse of crisp hair and delicate pink nipples.

It was war and neither of them gave ground. The vampire's shirt was removed with a soft ripping sound to be hurled across the room as Anders dug eager fingers into strong shoulders to pull himself forward so that they were chest to chest. Pants were somehow removed, being evicted with enough haste and force to hang Mitchell's black briefs on the ceiling fan. 

Anders shoved Mitchell back, his hands working quickly down the long lean body to concentrate on an erection that felt as if were hard enough to burst. He slid his lips up and down quickly which reaching in the drawer next to him. Rearing up, he slicked the beautiful cock in front of him and applied a liberal amount to himself. 

“Careful, Mitchell managed to whisper, no prep.”

“I don't think I need it,” the reply was low and rough. “What I need is you inside me...now!”

He moved up to straddle Mitchell's hips. He positioned himself carefully and then pressed down. The Irishman held perfectly still, letting Anders control the act. The god continued to press down, paused to take a deep breath, let it out and then it was in, he was filled. It took a moment for his body to adjust and then he leaned forward looking into Mitchell's lust-dark eyes. 

“This is the tribute I demand...your submission.” ” His voice was ragged, but there was a tone to it that suggested that Braggi might have joined them. He raised and then lowered himself and then tightened his rectal muscles, nearly sending Mitchell off the bed. Grinning, he bore down, sure of himself now. He was in control and he loved it. The vampire was his, would always be his. He was a god and it was good.

Later when Mitchell could catch his breath, he kissed Anders tenderly. 'If this is a new game I have to say I like it a lot.”

The blond kissed him him in return, stretching to ease his cramping legs. “So you don't mind if I demand tribute?”

“I can't say as I do,” Mitchell replied with a lazy grin. He reached up and pulled Anders down, rolling him off and onto his side. “I think I owe you a little more tribute though.”

His hands slide down the god's body, exploring, teasing and bringing back the heat. “Yeah, I'd say I haven't given you nearly enough...”

* * * 

 

It was “a thing” and Anders hated them. He was to come alone, of course. And, of course, he brought Mitchell. 

When they entered the bar Mike took one look at Mitchell and frowned deeply. “What's he doing here?”

Anders stroke across the bar to stand in front of his brother. “This is for family, so he's here.”

“He's not family, Anders,” Mike sighed as if taking to a particularly retarded child.

Anders smile, eyes sparkling. “He's my family. He doesn't hit me, or put me down, unlike some people we know.”

“Touche,” Olaf said, coming in the door. 

He walked over to Mitchell and held out his hand. “Good to see you again.”

Grinning, the vampire shook it asked, “How's the surf?”

“Too much chop and not enough wave action. That's why I bothered to come.” He ignored the glare from his grandson. “You ever do any surfing?”

Mitchell chuckled and shook his head. “Not much wave action in England, not like here anyway.”

“Aw, pity. Come on down to the beach sometime and I'll teach you how.”

“Sometime I'll take you up on it,” Mitchell replied, thinking that bright sun and vampires were a very bad mix.

“Grandpa...” Mike's voice was on the verge of whining, making Olaf wince.

Mitchell sauntered over to the bar and stood in front of Mike. “Look, I know we didn't get the best start and I'm sure all this is pretty weird for you, but I love your brother. I'm not going anywhere, so I'd just as soon we got along.” Mike lifted an eyebrow. “I'm not saying we should be buddies, but we don't have to be enemies.” The Irishman finished with a hopeful look on his face.

Olaf was giving his grandson the evil eye. As much as he argued with Olaf, Mike listened to him and valued his council. 

Mike nodded once. “Ok, yeah, it's weird. I'm still a little freaked out over having a vampire in the family...a _male_ vampire, but I guess I can learn to live with it. After all I have managed to deal with gods and...goddesses.” He looked upward as Michel descended the staircase.

“Be nice, Mikey,” she warned.

He rolled his eyes. “I don't think even a vampire could take Michel on and win.”

She strolled up to Mitchell and ran a finger up his arm. “I'm really not that dangerous.”

“Not unless you count the fact that you shot me in the fucking chest trying to kill me,” Axl said as he came in. He hadn't forgotten and he had no intention of forgiving.

“That was just a little misunderstanding,” Michel cooed, ignoring him.

She turned back to Mitchell and lifted the pendant. “Where did you get this?”

“From a Māori elder,” Anders spoke up. He came up to stand next to Mitchell looking protective.

Smirking, the goddess looked down at his neck. “Oh look, you've got one too. Isn't that cute?”

Olaf shoved his chair back and came over. He examined first Mitchell's pendant and then Anders'. “Do you know what these mean?”

Anders nodded. “Yes, he was very specific about them.”

His grandfather grinned and laid a hand on both their shoulders. “It would appear that your union has been blessed.”

“You're shitting me!” It was out of Mike's mouth before he could stop it.

“Nope. Elders don't just hand these out to anyone.” He ran a thumb over the swirl of Mitchell's pendant. “These were hand carved. They are old. Very old.” 

He lifted Anders pendant, cupping it in his palm. His eyes took on a distant look. The voice that spoke was Baldr's. “There is magic in them, very old deep magic. Love and rebirth. You are starting a new life together and it will be good. You do not have to wear them all the time, but keep them close. They will keep you connected to the earth and to each other.” 

He blinked and Olaf was back. “These are really awesome.”

“Yeah, grandpa,” Mike said. “They're really awesome.” He looked at Anders and Mitchell with new respect. “Would anyone like a beer?” 

* * *

 

“Well,” Mitchell said as they cuddled sleepily together. “That went better than expected.” 

“Yeah, it did, Anders replied quietly. “I think, once Axl found out you aren't going to eat him, he kinda likes having a vampire in the family.”

The Irishman nuzzled Anders' neck. “Yeah, we are family aren't we?”

“We're pretty dysfunctional, does that bother you?”

Mitchell chuckled. “You should see what I left behind in Bristol. This isn't bad at all. As long as Mike doesn't try to stake me, we'll be okay.”

“I know you aren't big on talking about it, but this is starting to sound pretty permanent.” The vampire placed another kiss on Anders' neck so he wouldn't have to see his reaction.

There was a long silence. “I know you're ready for it, but this is the first...relationship I've ever been in.”

“Do you think me living here is a mistake?” Mitchell said quickly. “Should I move out and let you have some space?”

A head shake. “No. No, don't even think about that. I just don't want to fuck this up. You promised not to hurt me. I don't want to hurt you either.”

“You won't.”

“I hurt you every time I can't say “I love you,” so don't bullshit me,” Anders pulled back so that he could see Mitchell's face. “I just can't. Maybe I never will. I don't know why. Every time I try my throat just closes up.”

“Then maybe the time just isn't right?” He could see his boyfriend perfectly even in the dark. The stress was showing, pulling his handsome features tight, a mist of tears sparkling in his eyes.

“I don't know. It scares the shit out of me. I want to say it. I want to say all those sappy words in the romance books, but I just can't. Every time I even think them I sort of freeze up, like saying them is somehow dangerous.” 

Mitchell gathered the blond into his arms and held him tightly. He could feel the god's heart hammering in his chest. A tear fell onto his collarbone and chilled, to be followed by another and another. 

Eager to comfort Anders, he hooked his finger under the god's chin and tipped his head up. Hi kissed his love's eyes, tasting his tears, feeling the soft brush of his lashes. “We don't need words and we don't need tears. All we need is us. Don't worry over this it, will come with time.”

“What if it doesn't?” The whisper was so quiet that only a vampire could have heard it.

“It will. Do you honestly think you could spend all this time with me, practically refuse to let me out of your sight and not love me? I don't. Every time you look at me you say it. Every time you kiss me I hear it over and over.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Mitchell had his fingers crossed when he replied, so that it didn't count. The truth was that not hearing it hurt and it scared him more than he wanted to admit. He had noted Anders' interest in several of the women during their last expedition to Shibboleth. It had been momentary and nothing had come of it, but it triggered insecurities that the vampire hated to admit were there. He was settling in here, feeling as if he had a home for the first time in memory. The truth was that he was terrified of losing it and of losing Anders.

He laid awake long after his partner had fallen asleep. He honestly didn't know what he would do if this ended. 

 

* * * *

 

Mitchell rolled over and blinked himself awake. The clock said that the the god had left for work long ago. He groaned and heisted himself out of bed. He was a little sad that Anders hadn't awakened him, but it was sweet that he'd let his boyfriend sleep in. He used the loo and then then wandered into the kitchen he found the note on the refrigerator door. 

_I left you some scrambled eggs. I didn’t even burn them. :) I tried to make bacon. If I continue to cook we need a dog to eat what I wreck. :( I thought I might come home for lunch. ;)_

Chuckling, Mitchell pulled out the plate of dry eggs. He threw a slice of cheese on it before sliding it into the microwave. He could smell the bacon, or what was left of it. Anders wasn’t big on monitoring what he was cooking. The Irishman didn’t seem to be able to convince him that the stove wasn’t like the microwave. You can’t just walk away and get distracted, not if you intend to eat what you’re cooking, anyway. 

He made coffee and toast to go with the eggs and sat down with the paper. He kept thinking about the note Anders had left. It took him a little time to figure out what was wrong with it. He heaved a sigh when he realized that it was missing a signature. More importantly it was missing any endearment at all. Anders wasn’t sentimental, not outwardly anyway and Mitchell was noticing it more and more. Somehow the need to hear the words overshadowed all the little things that his god did to make him feel loved. 

He took a sip of coffee and turned the page. There was news, but it didn’t interest him. He read the same paragraph three times and gave up. Putting the paper down, he gazed out of the window. He knew that Kiwi's were a laid back people and that Anders, in particular, had great difficulty expressing any emotions beyond snark and horniness. Well, okay, he did laugh, more and more actually and that was a good thing. But Mitchell couldn't get away from the thought that maybe he was asking for something that the god could never give. It made him unsure of himself and the huge risk he’d taken coming here. 

He stood up and took the dishes to the kitchen. He stood washing them and trying not to worry. He’d spend decades not thinking, just drifting one moment to the next…one kill to the next. When had that changed and stability and a relationship become so important.?

He knew the answer. It was when he looked down into those crystal blue eyes and saw himself reflected in them. He’d seen his own soul and knew he was lost forever without the golden god who’d stolen his heart. 

Jaysus, that sounded sappy even in his mind. He knew Anders cared for him. It wasn’t the Kiwi’s fault he’d never had a relationship before. It brought back his oldest brother’s advice. _“If you’re wantin’ a shag, Johnny, never pick a virgin, they’ll do a job on yer head.”_

So, of course, he'd picked a virgin. Well, to men anyway. He knew what he wanted, but how was Anders to know? And if push came to shove, who in their right mind would tie themselves to a vampire? Bloody hell...what an idiot thing that would be for any sane person and yet, here Mitchell was, mooning over the fact that his virgin shag wasn't writing him love poems. Disgusted with himself, he grabbed his jacket and headed out the door. He knew where he was headed within two strides. The ocean was where he always had gone to think...or when he didn't want to think at all.

The sun had passed its zenith, hanging high and hot. Mitchell wished he's thought to grab his cap on the way out of the door. The sunglasses let in too much light and his eyes had started to tear from the glare. He sat with his head bowed, eyes closed, listening to the gulls. He'd been here for hours. He'd smoked all his cigarettes and had no desire for more. He didn't want to think. It seemed that ever since he'd met Anders all he did was think. He was weary to the bone. He took off his pendant and sat there with it warm in his palm. If there was any magic in it he needed it to clear away the doubts.

“You're so right about virgins, Jimmy,” he said softly. This whole thing was messing with his head. It would be so easy to just pack it in and go back to Bristol, or maybe someplace where no one knew him. He could blend in and start over. He wouldn't have anyone to be concerned about, not werewolves or ghosts or gods. 

Except that it wouldn't be easy. There was that chain around his ankle called a conscience. He thought he'd drowned it in blood decades ago, but to his chagrin it had resurfaced when he'd met George and Annie. Without meaning to they had pulled on it until it had become like Jacob Marley's chains following him everywhere. Anders had added to it and the weight of it was heavy indeed. A smile twitched the corner of his mouth as he thought about his chain. He was still holding the pendant. He slipped it back around his neck, sliding it under his shirt where it nestled warmly against his chest. Shaking his head, he slid his phone from his pocket. It was time for some reality.

Annie was the one who answered, having made a dash for it before it could wake George. “Mitchell is that you? Is everything alright?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I'm fine. Everyone's fine. I'm sorry, Annie. I forgot about the time difference.”

She rolled her eyes. “You don't call for weeks and then its in the middle of the night. Well, it's not like I actually sleep anyway. George and Nina are apparently in a coma, so they're fine. I hear sea gulls, are you at the ocean?”

“I called you last week, remember and you sent me your ginger biscuit recipe and we Skyped for hours a fortnight ago,” he said defensively. “And the yes I'm by the water. The ocean is within walking distance of Anders' place.” 

“Is Anders there, can I talk to him?” She completely ignored his defense. If she said it was weeks, then weeks it was. God he missed her so much sometimes.

“No, he's at work,” Mitchell replied smiling at her enthusiasm. As always, he enjoyed listening to her. She asked if he was working yet, was he cooking, what was he cooking, how did it turn out and was Anders eating it and feeling better.

When she finally had her fill of news from the southern hemisphere she paused. “You didn't call to listen to me ask questions did you?”

“No, not really,” the Irishman admitted. 

“Out with it.”

“I'm not sure if Anders loves me, or if he just likes what we have together,” he finally said, his words nearly run together.

It took her a moment to parse what she'd heard. “Why do you say that?”

“He can't say it—I love you, I mean. He just can't make himself do it and he keeps hedging saying he's never been in a relationship before.”

“So you called the person who was murdered by her fiance for relationship advice? Have you gone 'round the bend?” She was a mix of astonished and amused.

“Not the best choice, yeah?”

“No. Not the best choice.” 

He dragged his fingers through his hair. “Aw shit Annie, I'm so fucked.”

She laughed sweetly. “No, you goose, you're in love. He's in love too. I've seen it in his eyes when he looks at you. Just because he can't say it doesn't mean he doesn't feel it.”

“When did you see this?” Mitchell asked, puzzled.

“The last time we all Skyped. When you were talking he couldn't take his eyes off of you. His face was a whole conversation as he agreed, smiled, frowned and laughed while you spoke. Mostly he just sat there grinning. Even Nina said he's gone on you. She said to tell you that you're a lucky man.”

“I'm an arsehole aren't I?”

“Yeah, but you always were. But you're our arsehole and we all love you. Now why don't you stop dawdling around the pier and go and be with that guy who loves you so much?”

“Thanks Annie,” he said softly. “What would I do without you.”

Smiling she said, “Probably be all pouty and gloomy.”

He laughed and she joined him. “You know me far too well. When George and Nina wake up, give them my love.”

“I will, now shoo and make me proud.”

Anders came home for lunch to an empty condo. He'd immediately checked the bed, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth. It vanished when he saw the empty bed and twisted covers. A quick dial to the Irishman's phone only netted him voice mail. He looked around for a note, but there was none. The dishes were washed and put away. It looked as if Mitchell had been gone all morning. Worse—it looked as if Mitchell had never been there. The god stood in the door for a moment as he got ready to leave. There was something achingly empty about his home when the vampire wasn't there. He locked the door and paused again before making his way back down the street to his office.

He wasn't given to introspection. In fact, Anders had successfully avoided it for most of his life. He had no love for revisiting old pain. Things had changed, however. His life had changed—something that still hadn't completely registered. There were now happy memories crowding out the dark ones. He could go home at night smiling with the lightness that came from knowing there was someone waiting for him. He tried Mitchell's number again with the same result. Sliding it back into his pocket his walk slowed as worry started to nibble at him.

Mitchell really didn't know how long he'd been sitting on the bench on the pier overlooking the Pacific. The day was clear and the harbor dotted with sailboats that looked like children's toys as they bobbed in the distance. He didn't know why he was feeling this pinch of loneliness...of not belonging. Anders had proved to him last night and again this morning that he was wanted and cared for. The sex had been hot and the middle-of-the-night cuddling achingly sweet. Feeling like an idiot, he stood up and walked to the office. 

After Mitchell talked to Annie he thought to check his messages. The list showed that Anders had called several times. Feeling even more like a fool, he listened to the messages. The first two were querying, the third anxious, but the fourth made him pick up his step. The forth sounded on the verge of panic. 

Mitchell burst through the door of JPR, startling Dawn, who just pointed in the direction of her boss's office. “I think he's ready to call the cops.”

Anders had heard Dawn and was out of his chair and halfway across his office when Mitchell stepped in. His hair was spiked as if he'd run nervous fingers through it again and again. His eyes looked...well...frightened. He hesitated a moment as if he wasn't sure what to do. Mitchell took over and swept him into his arms, lifting him off the floor for a moment.

“I'm so sorry I worried you,” he managed to say between kisses. “I needed to clear my head and I didn't even think of you. I'm an arse.”

“Worse than an arse. Don't ever turn off your phone again.” The god's voice was slightly shaky. 

Mitchell felt abusive. He'd effectively abandoned a man who had already been deserted twice. He stroked the Kiwi's hair and kissed him tenderly. “I'll never just leave you and I promise I won't turn into a tree.”

Anders tried to chuckle. “Promise. No trees.”

“Absolutely no trees...not even a bush.” He looked up from nuzzling him. “Can you leave? Is it too early?”

“I'm the boss. I can make those decisions,” he replied, pulling Mitchell toward the door.

Dawn looked up as they emerged, lips swollen, eyes only for each other and smiled to herself. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

Anders nodded. Mitchell stopped and smiled at her. “Thanks...thanks for everything.”

Anders didn't want to let go of Mitchell's hand. The Irishman wound his fingers through the god's and held him close. They walked down the street lost in each other. After about a block Anders looked up at Mitchell and asked, “What was so bad that you needed to clear your head?”

“I need to make sure I'm doing the right thing for you...for us.” He winced because that sounded stupid. 

“I don't want to hurt you.” That sounded even stupider, but he couldn't very well just blurt out that he was worried because...well because he was being an arse.

Anders bristled. “You aren't going to hurt me, you egg. You have to be the weirdest fucking vampire on earth. I thought you were all about tearing out throats and here you are wanting to wrap me in a blanny and keep me safe. It's kinda diabetic, ya know?”

The vampire shrugged. “I suppose it is.”

“I didn't say I didn't like it.” Anders came to a stop and pulled Mitchell around to face him. “I just don't like you hinting that you'd ever hurt me. You're the only person on this earth I do trust not to hurt me.”

Curling his finger under the god's chin he tipped his head back and kissed him lightly. “I love you.”

Anders' head dipped so that he wasn't looking at Mitchell. “I know. Now let's go home and get some dinner.”

He walked along holding the Irishman's hand wishing he could say more. He was angry with himself for missing yet another opportunity. He looked up at his beautiful boyfriend who was walking along chatting about the seagulls, smiling and happy. He was happy too. He couldn't ever remember being this happy. He went to sleep feeling content and woke eager to greet the day. Was this what love was like?

 

Dinner was a simple affair of macaroni and cheese. Mitchell used his mother's trick of adding bacon chunks, much to Anders' delight. He also insisted that milk was what went with it and not beer. The god pretended to pout, but he drained his glass and had another before the meal was over. 

“That was amazing.” He looked over at Mitchell and smiled brightly. “I can't believe it, you're gorgeous and you can cook.”

Mitchell threw back his head and laughed. “As long as you think mac and cheese is cooking I'm dead chuffed.”

They cleaned up the table and did the dishes together. There was enough left over for the next day as well, which made Anders even happier, stating that it always better the second day.

A smile quirked the corner of the Irishman's lips. “Well, then I can hardly wait to see what compliments you can fish out of your Bragi drawer tomorrow.”

“That wasn't Bragi, that was me,” he protested. “I can give a compliment you know.”

A wicked grin met that statement. “And how well I know.”

Anders smacked his shoulder lightly. “I'm being serious here.”

“So am I,” Mitchell replied cheekily. 

He gathered the god into his arms and kissed his nose. “I love your nose.” Another kiss. “I love all of you.”

Anders stretched up and kissed him gently. “Even the snarky bits?”

“Especially the snarky bits.”

Anders looked at him for a long moment, the muscles in his face tense as if he about to say something. Abruptly he turned his head and the moment passed. With it so did Mitchell's hope. His grip on the blond loosened and Anders slipped out of his arms. The vampire's first impulse was to grab him, but he stopped himself. Better to just let go now than to try to hang onto something that can never be. He reached over and picked up the dishtowel, busying himself with hanging it up while Anders went into the living room.

When he turned around he found that Anders had turned on the telly and was channel surfing apparently aimlessly. He started to join him on the sofa, but stopped at the fish tank. Funny how attached he'd become to those fish over the last few weeks. They lived in their own little fishy world thinking their own little fishy thoughts without a care for what went on around him. It crossed the vampire's mind that it wouldn't altogether be a bad way to live.

He heard a sound and realized that Anders had gotten up and had walked over to stand next to him.

Mitchell never raised his eyes from the tank. He pointed at the fish with the black spot on its side. 'Sometimes I feel like I'm that fish. I almost fit in, but not quite.”

Anders felt his heart crash all the way to his feet. He stepped up and wrapped his arms around Mitchell, turning the larger man easily. “You aren't exactly like anyone but yourself. Have I told you that's the one I named _Pūkeke_? It's a Maori word that means determined, or persistent. He was dying when I bought him. The other fish in the tank were picking on him because he's the smallest.”

“So of course you had to have him.”

“Yeah, something like that. They didn't even charge me for him. I kept him separate so that he had a chance. He has a strong will and fought to live, that's how he got his name. When he felt better I put him in my tank.” He tapped the glass and all the fish came to him, _Pūkeke_ swam in the middle of them. “They didn't mind that he is different. See, he fits right in.”

“I take it that's a fish lesson for me,” Mitchell chuckled. 

“Sorta. You're like _Pūkeke;_ you didn't fit in the other place, but you fit here. You're _Pūkeke;_ determined and steadfast. I'm not sure I deserve it, but you've made it pretty clear that you are here for me; even when my mouth gets to running off, you're still here.”

“Where else would I be, babe?” He kissed Anders tenderly. “Where else could I possibly go?”

The god looked up at him, his face serious, his eyes soft. “Please never go where I can't follow.”

Mitchell bent and kissed him tenderly. “I promise. I'm sorry about today. So much has happened since I arrived, I'm having trouble making sense of it all.”

Anders nodded, pressing his face against Mitchell's chest. “I know. Me too. I feel overwhelmed sometimes by it. I never thought anyone would ever love me and now I can't imagine living alone again.”

He wound his arms around the vampire, holding on tightly. “I don't know what it means to be in love. I always thought it was for suckers.”

Mitchell's lips were soft against his hair, his words whispered into the golden waves. “It's okay. I know you don't wear your heart on your sleeve like I do.”

“But I do, only I keep it hidden. I make fun of it and I lie about it and I'm terrified someone will find out...even you.” He blinked hard and pressed tighter. “I'm so afraid that I will be alone again.”

“Never!” The word was punctuated by a kiss that drew the god up on his toes and stole the breath from his lungs. “I can't leave you. I can't lose you. I can't bear the thought of a day without you in it.”

Anders took a deep breath and stepped back from Mitchell. “Will you marry me?” 

The words hung in the air for a moment as Irishman parsed them, making sense of the syllables. His eyes clouded with confusion as the meaning sunk in.

“What? You? I?” He brought his hands up helplessly. 

“Yes. You and me,” Anders said firmly. “I realized what a complete idiot I am. I wanted to tell you something in the kitchen, but I let the ghosts from my past scare it out of me. Well, I'm not scared anymore, John Mitchell. I love you.”

The world didn't end and the mirrors had already shattered.

“I love you, John Mitchell and I want to marry you. I want you to marry me. And I can't fucking believe I'm saying this, but I have to and I mean it.” Anders looked up at him hopefully.

“Yes. Yes, I'll marry you, Anders Johnson.” He down at the most wonderful man in the world, blue eyes into brown, both seeing a reflection there, both unable to find any more words.

He smiled a little as he realized how happy Ty would be and even more how throughly pissed off it would make Mike. He might be in love, but he was and would always be Anders Johnson, the man Mitchell adored.

Mitchell kissed him and Anders returned it, his heart hammering in his chest. He was pressed against the vampire and some tiny part of him realized that the slow pulse that he usually felt had speeded up to match his own...one heart was beating for two.


	16. Small Miracles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story takes place shortly after Shattering the Mirrors ends. Mitchell has found a job that will suit him very well. He's also fallen in love with a charming lady named Lizzy. She's stolen his heart and has no intention of giving it back. And he has no intention of taking it back. He's hers now... and forever...
> 
> This is a real hospital and it's amazing. [Starship Children's Health](https://www.starship.org.nz)
> 
> Thanks for coming on this ride with me. It appears that this universe isn't completely finished. I put this in as a chapter as it comes so close to the end of the story. I hope that's okay. I may, at some point also post it as it's own story as a part of the One Heart Beating for Two Series.
> 
> _Dia duit, grá mo chroí_ \-- God be with you, love of my heart

It had been nearly a month since Mitchell had arrived unbidden and unexpected on Anders' doorstep. The two had settled into a pattern that suited them. Anders worked and worked hard. He found clients and put in the time and effort to keep them. For the first time in his life he really took pride in his accomplishments. Perhaps because, for the first time in his life, there was someone who cared. When he came home it was to a good meal and welcoming arms. He was living a life that he previously would have mocked. Domesticity had always revolted him because he saw it as a sham. This was real and so good that he woke sometimes in the night, dripping sweat, panicked that he thought he'd lost it...that someone or something had taken Mitchell away.

He rolled over and watched the vampire sleep. Mitchell was always so abandoned, Anders guessed was the right word. His arm was thrown up to curve over his head, the other resting on the god's side of the bed. Legs were splayed, blankets destroyed, covering only his midsection. His hair was in tangles across the side of his face. He reminded Anders of the Greek sculpture, the Barberini Faun. He was as beautiful and as inhuman. He stirred and took a breath of air, animating the perfection of his form.

Sleepy lids fringed with long dark lashes fluttered open to reveal soft chocolate eyes. “You awake already?”

“Only sorta,” Anders replied, scootching over to tuck into the Irishman's waiting arms. “It's your first day of work, isn't it?”

“Mmmm, remind me again why I'm doing this,” the vampire murmured.

“Because you don't want to keep sponging off me; at least that's what you keep saying.” He leaned up and gave him a little kiss. “I'm fine with things the way they are.”

“I can't spend my life sitting on my arse watching cooking shows.” The kiss was returned, followed by sounded suspiciously like the beginning of a snore.

“I kinda like having you here all day at my beck and call. What's going to happen when I come home for lunch now?” The blond did his best to sound petulant.

“I guess you will go back to wanking, or whatever they call it down here. Either that or save it up for when I get off work.” He kissed the god a little more thoroughly. “Waiting will make things hotter.”

“No, it won't. I'll get all snarky and nasty.”

Mitchell squeezed him tightly. “And then I will just have to shag you into the mattress.”

“How about now?” Anders asked hopefully.

“How about you go back to sleep and leave an old man alone until the alarm goes off.”

“I'm going to pout.”

“You're adorable when you pout. When the alarm goes off I will watch you pout for awhile if that will make you happy.”

Anders sighed. “Getting laid will make me happy.”

“It's 5am, tell your dick to go back to sleep.” Mitchell kissed his god gently. “I can get it a glass of warm milk if that will help.”

Anders started to giggle, his pout vanishing as he got a visual. “Ok, I can take a hint.” He put his arm around the Irishman and snuggled close. “You owe me one.”

“Mmmhuh...”

Mitchell wasn't quite awake an hour later when the alarm went off. He shut it off quickly and slipped out of Anders' arms. The god was blissfully asleep. The Irishman looked at him lying so peaceful, a tiny smile curling the corners of his mouth. He forgave him for waking him up in the wee hours. He could forgive him for anything. He bent and laid a tender kiss on Anders’ lips before sneaking out of the room to dress and grab some coffee and toast before catching the bus. 

He spotted the sticky notepad and took a minute to leave a note. His penmanship was still Catholic school precise even after all these years. 

Good morning, babe.   
I didn’t want to wake you because you are so beautiful  
When you are sleeping. I will see you this afternoon.  
Meanwhile, have a bit of Lord Byron to read for breakfast  
 _Be thou the rainbow in the storms of life.  
The evening beam that smiles the clouds away,   
and tints tomorrow with prophetic ray._

He was smiling all the way to the bus stop. He’d never left his fiancé a love poem before. He wondered what the Kiwi would make of it. He chuckled as he pictured the god snorting with derision and then reading it again. And then sitting down with a cup of coffee with the note close by. Mitchell knew that it would vanish into that secret place where Anders kept mementos. He had a tender heart even though he hid it well. It was part the reason the vampire loved him so much. He might make fun of romance, but he was always right there with some tiny reminder that went straight to Mitchell’s heart. He’d argued that he should drive the Irishman to work, but there was no reason to do that when the hospital was right on the bus route. It was only a twenty minute ride and he’d rather think of Anders enjoying the last bit of sleep than to see him sitting there half-awake because he felt he should be helping. 

Smiling, Mitchell leaned against the window remembering when he'd gone down to apply for the job. 

* * *

Mitchell had stopped by Immigration to pick up his work papers. The woman behind the counter was extremely helpful. She even asked what kind of work he was looking for. When she found he was an experienced hospital cleaner she scribbled a note for him and handed it to him with his papers. 

“Technically, I'm not supposed to do this, but I have a friend who works at Starship Children's Hospital and she said they are desperate for cleaners.” 

She looked up at Mitchell and smiled slightly. “Do you like children?”

He returned her smile. “Yeah, I do.” 

“Do you think you can be around really sick ones—maybe dying?” Her smile had softened. “A lot of people can't, that's why they are always looking for staff. You come to work and find a favorite child isn’t there anymore and it wears on you. They have a pretty high turnover.”

Mitchell's head dropped, his eyes growing darker, his smile slipping. “I imagine they do.” He looked at her, his smile tugging at only one corner of his mouth. “I can try it. I know they go to a better place than this when they die.”

This time her smile reached her eyes. “Yes, they do, don't they? You go on down and put in an application. I will call and tell them that your visa is in the works. I hope you enjoy working there.”

He smiled and nodded, putting the paper she gave him in his jacket pocket. “Yeah, I hope I do, too.”

The bus to the children's hospital had been a pleasant surprise. It was spacious and not as crowded as the tube was back home...well, England. This was home now. The hospital itself was huge and clean and fully of bright colors that made it look like a place for children. He compared it to the children's ward back home and shook his head. They tried, but the whole building was old and if he were a child coming in he knew he'd be terrified. This would still be scary but the lobby with its toys, greenery and array of colors and cartoons on the walls would make any child more comfortable.

He inquired at the desk and a smiling receptionist quickly pointed him to toward the elevators. As he waited a pram stopped next to him and he looked down to see huge blue eyes looking back up at him. They blinked once and then a gurgle followed. Mitchell instinctively started to smile, but it was checked by the sudden realization that this child was anything but normal. An oxygen tube taped to her face stole the little girl's prettiness. He blinked hard and the happy gurgle came again. Melting, he knelt down next to her and smiled.

“Hello, _Dia duit, grá mo chroí_ ," he murmured. A tiny hand reached out and he put his little finger in it to be grabbed and held tightly. 

“Well, milady,” he said softly, “Now that you have won my heart what will you do with it?” 

There was a chuckle and he looked up to see the baby's parents smiling at him. “Lizzy seems to have made another conquest.” Her father was smiling at him. “She has that effect on men.”

The elevator opened, but Lizzy had no intention of letting go, her tiny face screwing up angrily as the Irishman tried to extricate his finger. “I think I may have to ride along with you.”

Her mother laughed and reached out. “No, here, let me help.”

Mitchell shook his head. “I don't mind. Really. I'd consider it an honor. It's not every day that a fair maid claims me so thoroughly.” He walked into the elevator bent over so that her grip on his finger wasn't strained.

“What is wrong with her?” he asked and then winced, realizing that probably wasn't an appropriate question.

Her dad leaned down and adjusted the pink headband with its pink and yellow flower. He was very matter-of-fact. “It's more like, what isn't? But mostly it's her heart these days. She has one more surgery to go and then, hopefully we can take her home to stay.”

“She’s so young to have gone through so much,” the Irishman commented quietly.

Her mother smiled sadly. “She’s older than she looks. She’s nearly two, but her growth has been slowed.”

Mitchell winked at Lizzy and squeezed her hand gently. “Well, I always did fancy older women.”

This elicited a squeal of delight and the production of a great shining bubble on her lips. Mum wiped it away quickly, but the vampire noted how blue those tiny lips were.

They emerged from the elevator into a lobby gay with toys, plants and multicolored walls. A nurse met them, holding out a teddy bear. Lizzy reached for it with her free hand, still refusing to give up her claim on Mitchell. He felt terribly out of place, but he couldn't bear to just pull her hand away, so off he went with her to her room. The nurse was far more understanding than the others he'd known. But then, a look around showed nothing but kind faces. These were people who would do anything for a child, even let some scruffy would-be-cleaner be dragged up to her room. 

Once she was in bed, which had necessitated a bit of a ballet to keep her attached to Mitchell, she looked very content to be the center of so much attention. The nurse exited the room for a few moments and came back with a lolly. It took a moment of intense inner debate, but at last she released the vampire's finger in favor of the candy. 

When she was happily sucking away with her mum holding the stick, he started to slip out of the room. She spotted him leaving and started to protest. Her mother soothed her. “He'll come back soon, Lizzy.” She looked up at Mitchell expectantly. “You will, won't you?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I will. I'm just here to apply for a job, but I'll come back up when I'm done.”

“What kind of job?” her father asked.

Mitchell was a little embarrassed. “Just a cleaner.”

Dad smiled. “That's an important job. This place couldn't run without you blokes. Maybe you could be assigned to this floor.”

“That would be brilliant,” Mum added smiling up at him. “By the way, I'm Vicky, this is Ian and you've already met the amazing Lizzy Williams.”

He held his hand out to Ian. “I'm Mitchell—John Mitchell, pleased to meet you, Mr. Williams and you too...”

He was cut off by Ian shaking his hand hard. “I'm Ian and she's Vicky. We're on a first name basis with all of Lizzy's conquests.” He was grinning from ear to ear. “You go apply and then come back up if you can.” His smile faded a little. “Lizzy doesn't get all that many visitors, so you're always welcome.”

Mitchell left feeling both exhilarated and shaky. Whatever else happened today he had the feeling that it couldn't top this. He went down to apply and found himself handing his application in to a woman who smiled widely at him.

“When can you start?”

“What...what do you mean. I just gave you my papers,” He'd stammered.

She nodded and replied. “Oh we'll look them over thoroughly, never fear, but I was coming in and saw you with the little girl. I thought you were just a visitor and am delighted that you want to work here. I think you'll fit right in. We’ll be calling you in a few days as soon as you’re cleared.”

Smiling he went back up to Lizzy’s room. She was sitting up in bed as her mother read to her. The moment she spotted Mitchell, she squealed and held out her arms. He walked over and held out his hand to her. She grabbed it and pulled him closer. She wasn’t old enough to talk yet, but that didn’t stop her. He listened and nodded in what he hoped were appropriate places. It seemed to please her and she finally wound down and laid there grinning.

“You really have a way with children,” Vicky said, looking up at him, her eyes were tired and deep.

“Well, with this one I appear to. She’s a charmer,” he replied. “When she grows up she will break a thousand hearts.” 

He saw the shadow of pain that flickered across her face. “Why don’t you take a break for a few minutes. Lizzy and I can manage on our own. I’ll finish the book for you.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind? I could really use a smoke. I know I shouldn’t, but…”

He nodded and said, “I shouldn’t either, but I do as well. We all do things we shouldn’t, maybe it helps make up for the things we have to do. Go and take the time you need. We’ll be here when you get back.”

“You’re an angel,” Vicky said softly, placing her hand on his. “Straight from heaven.”

Mitchell laughed. “I’m about as far from that as it’s possible to get. Now go and enjoy your guilty pleasures.”

He picked up the book and turned back to Lizzy. “So where were you?”

When Vicky came back Lizzy was sound asleep her pink bunny snuggled up against her cheek. He smiled and rose from the chair. “We read about Mulan and the Three Bears and got most of the way through The Fuzzy Duckling. I think she’s worn herself out.”

She stood tiptoe and slid her arms around Mitchell in a warm hug. “Thank you so much, Mitchell. I hope you come back soon.”

“I will,” he promised. “I’m going to come back very soon.”

The bus ride home seemed to take forever as did his walk to Anders’ office. Dawn greeted him as he came in. He was always delighted to see her. “Is the boss in?”

She nodded. “I think he’s off the phone now.”

Mitchell looked into the office and saw Anders sitting back in his chair chewing on a pen. He just looked at him for a moment, so perfect and impossibly handsome. The god spotted him and swung around, grinning widely.

Taking that as his cue, Mitchell went into the office, meeting Anders just as he was rising. Sweeping him into the air he kissed him soundly.

“How was your day?” Anders asked when he could breathe again.

“Wonderful, but it’s about to get better.”

Anders cocked an eyebrow. 

“Call Michele and tell her to come over and bring her stick. We are going to make a miracle…”

 

_Dia duit, grá mo chroí_ \-- God be with you, love of my heart

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for hanging in there. What started as a small trilogy has grown into a bloody book. They have so much story to tell and don't want to stop talking.
> 
> If you aren't starting with Part 1 "Smoke and Mirrors" you are missing part of the Two Hearts Beating as One trilogy and not reading all of the story.
> 
> Part 1: [**Smoke and Mirrors**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1034616)
> 
> Part 2: [**Blowing Away the Smoke**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1054179)


End file.
